I wish I took Spanish in high school
I took 6 years of French between college and high school. Absolutely worthless. Not only can I not stich together one sentence in French, I have no plans in running any ass in former French colonies like Cameroon and Ivory Coast.
On the other hand, if I knew some workable Spanish, I would increase my hit rate with hot maids at hotels and bus girls at restaurants. It was not meant to be.
Despite, my lack of Spanish, I was able to find some work arounds during my recent trip to Colombia.
In November, I found myself in Cartagena, a beach town nestled on the Caribean. As it would happen, my trip coinicided with the Miss Colombia National Beauty Pagent (including a greta bikinni segment). The entire country seemed to descend on this city for the week long party.
My crew and I descended on Mr. Babilla. A cavernous bar packed with Colombian tail. My eyes swirled in delight as I scanned the bar.
My friend Joey had already locked on a target. After several minutes, he grabbed his taget's girlfriend and smashed our bodies together. Moments later, I felt her breath on my neck, our arms locked together, and we gyrated to the music. My girl, soon to be found out to be named, Gisele, was dressed in a pink mini-skirt dress, dark brown hair, and tanned skin.
We all remember i squared, don't we? I thought it best to get her on neutral ground. She already seem intoxicated, now time to isolate (i squared). Somehow, I manged to gesticulate and Spanglish my idea of going to the bar located next to Mr. Babilla.
We clasped hands and walked to the closest bar and continued our grinding and dancing. A bit later we sat at the bar together drinking.
Rutt: "yo y tu vamonos mi hotel?" attempting to say that we go to my hotel in spanish
Gisele: "lo sciento, no entiendo" something like i can't understand you
I repeated this several times to no positve effect. I then decided to do what I do best: outsource.
I recruited the bartender to be my translator. After a laborious fifteen minutes, Gisele and I headed to my apartment for a sleep over.
Dateline....Monday...11 am....Cartagena.....
The phone rang in my hotel room, I looked hazily around my room, there was a girl lying next to me (this is a story for another time). I picked up the phone. It was Gisele. Somehow, in Spanglish, I discreetly invited her to my hotel at noon without the sleeping girl awakening.
I showed the girl in my bed my flight itenary, my flight was leaving today, and a car was picking me up at 2 pm. I had three hours left. I gave her a big hug and ushered out the room. I quickly hunted the maid down, squished some pesos in her hand and gestured that she needed to clean my roomo immediately. I needed to get ready for Gisele.
Gisele showed up at noon, and we had a lovely lunch on the roof deck. We smiled a lot each other and occassionaly asked the bartender to translate.
Rutt: "quonto anos?" how old are you
Gisele: "diecinueve" ??
Rutt: "huh?"
Gisele: "uno----nueve"
Rutt: "aahh...19"
I then explained that I needed to pack my bag for my flight out of Colombia. It was 1:45, somehow I managed to get her clothes off and she was lying on the bed.
At 2pm, I walked down to the lobby, and took my car to the aiport. Said adios to Gisele, and gave her a hug.
I heart Colombia (and Gisele), but I wish I knew how to speak Spanish.
I Love You, For 4 Minutes Everyday
Dedicated to a special reader in Hopkinton......I listen to her wrestle the sheets, I watch her fake cans heave with her breath, I sigh as I stare at her shaved triangle. I have been up for 90 minutes, rubbing my cock, and waiting for her to wake, so I can reach over to hug her, which will then lead to our morning sex. I finish, and then I dread spending the day with her.
We met in 2004 in Saigon. It was a two week love affair that extended to two countries. I had not seen her for 6 years. Since our last meeting, she had moved to Paris, married, had two kids, and more importantly got divorced.
A short email from her in the winter announced that she was sad and getting divorced. Visions of her lithe body danced in my head.
The emailing was not as smooth as I hoped. Her ex-husband hacked into her email account and started emailing me as her. It was a bit confusing….. this is, me and her, discussing, her ex-husband via email...and verifying who was who......
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 2009 04:13:17 +0800From: yahoo.com.vnSubject: Sue saday!To: ruttHi Rutt,
I knew what happened, as i used yahoo.fr, thats why my ex-husband can come in and hack, now my email is this one and remember u well, just contact me w this one only and do for u a new add, we will play w him, agree?
Well... tell me what he said to u bythe other email, @lemoal2 ??? and what is ur answered, and we will see it later.
I sended u a letter w a pic from me and my children, he answered back to me w @lemoal2, w ur name. but u never know about @lemoal2 from me right? Thats why i smell something wrong happend.
Fine, nothing will be dangerous for me, i dont care about him, im in France, he cant hurt me. He is a really crazy man.
Haha...im sure u send ur pics to him. Poor Rutt, im sorry for u.
Well.. tell me about ur trip, ok?
Big kiss
Từ: rutt>Chủ đề: RE: Sue saday!Đến: yahoo.com.vnNgày: Thứ Ba, 21 tháng 7, 2009, 15:43hi sweetie..ok,,,,now i am confused.... to make sure this is really you....tell me where we met, and what country we visited together (and what we saw)? :) ruttso this is your real email???
Hi rutt
Well... We met us in saigon vietnam, after we got a big trip: chau doc (we got 2 rooms as we were not husband wife but at midnight u came to my room, lol...), after we went to Campodia by boat (phnompenh and simreap, i remember was 1 night in simreap, we watched a movie talking about the word of vietnamese and american, then i got mad on u as u r american, lol... do u remember it?), finish our 1st vacation together we back to saigon by plane.
So is it ok? Do i forgot something.T
This is my real email, just contact me w only this one, ok?
Tell me what my ex-husband said to u and what u answered.
So after this email speedbumps from her ex-husband, I found myself in Paris. I think she looked even better than when I last saw her. A quick night time romantic walk under the Eifel Tower resulted in her getting naked in the hotel room. I envisioned a great week ahead of me.
For two minutes in the morning and two more before bed I was correct. The rest of the time I gritted my teeth, bit my tongue, and rolled my eyes. I was on a limited budget and Paris is not the Wal-Mart of Europe. A quick lunch with her was 40 Euros, dinner 130 Euros. She wanted to go on the dinner cruise for a quick 300 Euros, and wanted to drink 7 Euro waters from the mini bar in the hotel. One week with her would be the equivalent of 6 weeks for me in Thailand.
I wasn’t allowed to touch her hair, stroke her back, and my jokes were not funny. She met my French friends (3 girls) on Saturday at a bar. She polished off 6 champagne mojitos, insulted my friends, asked which one of them wanted to have sex with me, and informed me that she was leaving me on Sunday. She refused to share a taxi with me, but screamed at me for leaving her on the street.
I queried her in the morning, giving her the opportunity to explain herself. I was met with a grunt. I asked her if she needed help packing. An hour later, her bags were packed. At the last minute, she apologized for being jealous. And she explained she was a woman, and as a man, I should understand that. I understood it better when she got naked for me, and we had make-up sex.
Two nights later in bed, she asked me if I could buy her a Christmas party. I asked her why a Buddhist wanted a Christmas present in October. She explained she needed her own computer since she roomed with her ex-mother-in-law, and she was sneaking into her email account.
I explained I didn’t care. The next day, she packed her bags for a second time. Good riddance.
But, I will miss those four minutes a day.
She is only 17
I had my routine down. A dinner of nasi goreng at the local watering hole on Poppies II. Ihen ambled over to the 7-11. and drank a couple of San Miguel Lights on the stoop. After that I made my way over to Joe's. Joe's started to pick up around 11 or so. They have a gret three piece acoustical band, including Marcos on the bongo and Ari on the guitar. It was a great place to slurp down 10 beers before you head out.
Before, I knew it, I was on the second floor of Bounty, the disco. the music filled the room, the throngs clutched their drinks anbd bounced to the beat. I quickly scanned the crowd, grabbed a waiter as a diversion and opened up a two-set. Two Indonesian girls swirled along the dance floor. One of the girls responded to my lame open. I closed in. The two girsl were sisters. The girl who seemed some what interested in me was 23, and her sister 17. I quickly crunched the numbers..........how was I going to pull this off? This seemed like the ultimate baby-sitting cock block.
At this point, I was beyond intoxicated. I recalled going on "two instant dates" with both girls as they dragged me two other bars. Finally, the three of us were cruising the streets of Kuta beach, bali in taxi. We pulled up to their house. I felt dejected ...it was the literal and figurative end of the road.
A blurting of Indonesian filled the cab between the two sisters. My eyes opened wide...the little sister hopped out of the cab and I was left withthe other. I was not sure what happened, and I wasnt sure how mynew girlfriend was going to exlpain this to her parents, but I was not going to complain.
We ended back at my hotel and she left the following day. Bike Bike!
How I shit myself three times and still managed to get laid in Yemen
Did I get your attention? Good. I thought so. Unfortunately, the story is not true....well, the second half is not true. I did manage to ruin three pairs of boxers. The hygeine level in Sana's is not quite up to western standards. Stay away from the mango juice.
As I took the Aleppo-Sana's shuttle (shuttle, meaning three flights and 12 hours) on Yemeni Airlines...one of these did not belong to the other. There were 125 plus women dressed in black burkas....and one girl wearing a tank top. I believe, most of the passengers were in a plane for the first time. If they had an option, most would have brought a goat as their carry on item.
As luck would have it, I sat near the cute tank-top wearing Arab. By the end of the ride, she was sitting next to me, and we were exchanging numbers. Logistics never came to fruition, and I did not see her in Yemen. She is planning on moving to states during the fall...so you never know.
So gentle reader...I have been receiving some requests for updates. Sadly, I have not torn it up in the middle east...so I will share with you a story from a month ago...that I was too lazy to type up. To be thematically consistent....the girl is Muslim.
Dateline....Bali, Indonesia.
I ended up at Bounty prior to midnight. Bounty is like spring break in Cancun without any holdbacks. Aussies run rampant, Europeans raise the bar, and the Indonesian girls round out the mix. The focus is pure unadulterated drinking with a mix of giant cocktails and chugging contests on stage. Throw in a mix of underage drinking, and bars that close at 5am with $1 drinks and you have a nice combination.
I sidled up to the bar, watching a bunch of Aussie flag tatooed bufoons chug beers on stage, and eyed an Indonesian girl near me. We made eye contact a couple of times, but I was too lazy to approach. Twenty minutes later, she came over to me...
"Do you know the time?" she asked.
I responded with a quick laugh and the time. Girls really don't need any creatitivity when working guys.
We made some small talk. She was 28, divorced from an Aussie, and lived on the island next to Bali. She was here on vacation. Just like me.
Then began the debate....civilian or professional. I tried to probe around to determine if she was a prostitute. I guess I wasn't that discreet.
"Really, I am not a prostitute," she offered. "You do not have to give me any money. We can go to your place, if you want now."
This was too easy. She wasn't the best prize in the place. I had had only two drinks. And I could get a good sleep if I went home with her now. I crunched the numbers, and suggested we leave post-haste.
She proved to be an energetic lover. We parted ways the next morning.
Thailovelinks.com
I just listened to Celine Dion sing the theme from the Titantic for the 9th time on Utube. I had a fake smile plastered on my face. BamBam then showed me her collection of Hello Miss Kitty stickers. Again, feigned interest.
Is Bam Bam my friend's 13 year old daughter?? No, she is a 23 year old woman who I met on Thai lovelinks.com
My buddy, Lenny, was recently in Thailand for his buddy's wedding. His buddy met his current wife over this same website. She was one set of tits from being a ten. I quickly queried Lenny how they met, and by the end of the week, BamBam and I were sharing texts.
Our first date was at a bar on the beach with my buddy Hector. Note...Hector, grade A wingman. BamBam showed up with her friend Rain. We all had a great time drinking, dancing and sweating. Our joint efforts resulted in a goose egg.
BamBam an aspiring travel agent was encouraging me to rent a car for the day. She wanted to drive me around the island for the day. I smelled a commission, but hey, it would be good to see the island. It was only $35. BB and I struck the deal. We planned to drive on Sunday.
A text popped up on Saturday afternoon. "we will go out tonight, and then i sleep over your hotel"
To say I was excited was an understatement. I quickly proceeded to grab a stack of tissues to calm myself down.
To cut to the chase, BamBam did sleep over. As well as her friends Rain and Kaak who she showed up with for a night od drinking. I know what you are thinking....foursome! Not even close. First her friends, barely could crack a 5. Second, BamBam displayed the sexual desire of a 2 by 4. She curled up in my bed and was asleep in seconds. Her friends slept on a bench in the same room.
Frustrated? Yep.
They departed early in the morning, and the three muskateers were back in 2 hours in my rental car. I guess I was going to have 3 tour guides, not one. I soldiered on, but was not happy.
Let's say there were a couple of other false starts. I remained steadfast.
A week later, we proceeded to go to the Country Road House for some authetic Thai rock. And when I say we, I mean the four of us, of course. We drink a couple of yards of beer.
We switch to Soi Green Mango. We dance, we drink. At 3 am, the fours of us end up at my apartment. Anger begins to seethe. I am imagining another sleepover party. Some drunken chatter begins in Thai.
"Rutt, I will get my friends home, and then come back." BamBam shares with me.
I realize I had just logged another shut out.
I proceeded to my apartment and dialied 1711. No, that is not the Thai Police. Better, it is McDonalds. Close to 4 am , my combo meal showed up. Life isn't that bad.
Ten minutes later, BamBam showed up.
Mission accomplished. Stay the course.
centaurs, cameras & cars
It is Monday night. Noi and I are watching Chronicles of Narnia.
Noi: "Do you have people like that in America?" Noi pointed to a dwarf on the TV.
Rutt: "Of course, every country has people like that."
She nodded in agreement.
Thirty minutes later, I decided to have some fun.
Rutt: "Do you have people like that in Thailand?"
Noi: "What???" Noi's eyes opened like saucers. Noi pointed at the Centaur on the screen.
Noi: "You have people like that in America??"
Rutt: "Yes, of course." I feigned surpise at her queston. "There are several tribes of Centaurs that live in Arizona, New Mexico, and Mexico."
Noi: "What do they eat?"
Rutt: "Mostly, hay and oats." I lied.
Noi: "Really, I am so scared. I never want to go to America. Are they dangerous?"
Rutt: "No, they are very friendly."
The questioning went on for five more minutes.
For the rest of the film I began to laugh anytime as a Centaur pranced across the screen. She eventually caught on.
And then gave me an incredible blow job. Nice girl.
A couple of days before, I was at Noi's house. She shared with me that she was reading a biography on the former King of Thailand.
Rutt: "Ohh, when was he king?"
Noi: "I really dont know."
Rutt: "Well roughly. What century?"
A few more conversational interactions took place. Then Noi broke out a piece of paper and pen, and began furious calculations. Now to be fair, the Thai calendar has about a 500 year difference compared to ours.
After five minutes, Noi proudly showed me her work product. Twelth century was the answer.
I picked up the book. I thumbed through it. There were photographs of the king. The king was driving a car.
Rutt: "Noi, were there cameras in the 1100s?
Noi shook her head no.
Rutt: "Did they have cars in the 1100s?"
Noi shook her head no.
I thought Asians were suposed to be really smart?
Is this a lock? not
Brothel or hairdresser??? I guess both.
I just finished a three course meal at the Royal India house for $6.28 and was heading home on my motobike when I decided to get a haircut.
I pulled into Star Salon.
Rutt: "Saweedeekup, how much for a haircut?"
Hairdresser: "200 baht ($5.78)" I thought pretty reasonable.
The haircut begun, and I was immediately interrogated by a Thai girl in the salon. Gee happened to be the sister of the hairdresser.
"Where you from?"
"You alone?"
"You have girlfriend?"
Etc, the questions went on.
The haircut finished.
"Where you go now?"
"Where are you going?"
Gee: "I go with you now." She smiled.
"I'm going home tonight. Here is my number."
I needed a break. I had been drinking for 18 consecutive nights, and Noi was coming over to watch a movie.
The next day my phone rang.
Gee:"you come visit me at salon?"
I headed over and sat outside with Gee, her sister, and a couple of other hairdressers. It was an akward English lacking conversation. Why was I here?
She kept on asking what I wanted to do. I pushed the question back to her. We kept on sitting there.
An hour later, she stated she wanted to go and she walked to my motobike.
Rutt "where do u want to go?"
"Your hotel," she smiled.
Rutt "why?"
Gee: "my sister told me to go."
Rutt: "for?"
Gee: "we have sex."
This obviously seemed too easy.
Rutt:"for fun? or do you need money?"
Gee:"you give me a tip."
Rutt:"In America, boys dont give girls money for sex. You can come for fun."
She hesitated. "No, thanks." She walked away.
I drove home alone. Put this one in the loss column.
Koh Samui III
Dateline….Koh Samui III
The fan pulsated. Sweat poured down my face. It was 90 plus stifling degrees. Noi draped her arms around me, still sleeping.
I had just successfully completed my first Thai authentic sleepover.
I had met Noi the week before . She was a waitress and served me and my friends dinner. I was pouring it on strong and seemed to be getting a good response, either that or she was fishing for a tip. A couple nights later I strolled back into the restaurant hoping to continue my flirting with Noi. Too bad my hoping was met with a wall of indifference. I left without a phone number.
I headed off to Reggae,a big cavernous bar. A couple of thousand people weaved to the music. I approached the bar for my second Singha. Who was there? Noi! Of all the bars, and all the people I run into her. She had just got off work.
We ended up hanging out and made plans for the next night. The next night we met at midnight after her shift and drank for several hours. I could not read her. I tried to hug and kiss her at 4 am when she went home. She turned her head away from me.
“Im very shy Thai girl.”
We met the next day for lunch and some fruit juice at her apartment. We parted ways.
At midnight the same day, Noi texted me, inviting me for a drink at her apartment. I quickly made a bee line after picking up some rubbers. You never know!
We sat on a folding chair in her studio. Sweat cascaded down my body. Her body language was not decipherable. I tried to move closer.
It was now 2 am, and I was looking for an opportunity to make an approach but could not see a chance.
Noi asked “do you need to take a shower?”
I was genuinely confused. Shower to get ready for sex. Shower because I smelled. Shower because this is Thai tradition.
Noi informed me : “You can sleep over if you want. Its very late”
Again confusion. Sleep over for sex? Because it was too late to get a taxi?
Should I roll the die? Sleep over, sweat all night, and get blue balls?
I jumped into the shower. No hot waters.
I lied in bed and waited, wondering. Noi spent 30 minutes in the bathroom. I spent more time getting frustrated and sweating in her bed. Noi joined me in bed, got under the covers, and turned her back on me.
I turned her over and kissed her. She giggled and turned away.
Noi “Im very shy. Im not used to this”
A minute later, something happened. I don’t know what. But a switch was flipped. Noi was naked, on all fours, asking for it.
Besides the 90 degree heat, my first sleepover went very well. Except for walking home the next day.
Dateline.....Koh Samui II
Please. Don’t hate the player,hate the game.
Its Wednesday near noon. Its 85 under the palm tree and I just got done jet skiing and I am eating a fresh chilled mango I bought for a $1.30. This beats work.
My phone rings. Its Bam. Remember her? After a five minute conversation, I deduce she wants to meet me at my apartment a bit after 3 when she gets done with work. You don’t have to twist my arm.
The door opens and Bam rolls in and playfully grabs my cock. I lead her over to my bed. She grabs my crotch again.
Bam: “Can I see it for a second?”
“ Seeing it for a second” I learned is codeword for blowjob. She slides my shorts and boxers down and gobble gobble. Wow, what a great afternoon.
For the next hour, Bam either has my balls or cock in her mouth. We eventually have sex and she is out the door two hours after her arrival.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Dateline…..Koh Samui…aka…..Hit the Ground Running
It’s better to be lucky than smart. I touched down in the evening at Koh Samui. I was exhausted. It has been a long day of travel.
I coasted through passport control and was headed to the taxis, but I was cut off by a sweet Thai girl in traditional dress. Before I knew it I was filling out a survey with her and joking around.
“Why you come to Thailand?” she asked.
I quickly scanned the list and answered jokingly: “the people.”
She smiled. “you come alone?”
“Yes, maybe you can be my girlfriend,” as I wrapped my arm around her.
She smiled. We finished the survey and I waved good bye.
“One minute,” she cooed. She handed me a piece of a paper.
Bam. 077 4892 1274
I wondered if this number was handed to every farang (foreigner)? Maybe, maybe not, but does it matter?
The next night, she rolled up (motorbike) to my hotel at 11 pm. Very petite, very pretty. Her thong peeked above her jeans. We headed down to Chaweng Beach for some Singha beers.
Conversation was difficult at best. And my energy level being sober was pretty low for this effort. We kept the talk simple.
“Do you like snakes?”
“ohhhhh, so scared!”
“do you like tigers?”
“ahhhhh, so pretty!”
This can only go on so long. We decided to head over to a reggae bar. The positive was the music was too loud to speak. Now, we only we danced and hugged each other.
We taxied back to my hotel. We stood next to her motorbike. She thanked me profusely for a great night. We started to make out, and she started to poke my crotch and smile. I then started to invite her up to my room. She smiled and declined.
Next night, I was ponied up to the bar alone drinking a San Miguel. My phone chimed. It was Bam, the former factory worker, now airport survey taken. She was nearby, and was heading over to meet me.
She showed up in a small blue cocktail dress and slid on a stool next to me. Our legs intertwined and we started to “chop dee kup!” down the hatch! I then subtlety asked her back to my apartment. We settled on Q bar next to my apartment. One more drink there, and we were in my bed.
She slid down my pants, and started blowing me. I grabbed at her crotch, and she slapped my hand away. I asked her to take her dress off. She declined.
Fear pulsated though my soul. Katooey!!???? Why wouldn’t she get naked? Seconds later the dress came off. Mission accomplished. I smiled. Thank you Bam!
Dateline….taipei ….again…….
This story turns out a bit more promising than my evening with Deborah. If you read the story below, you might have recalled a blonde Mexican, Flora. Somehow during my drinking escaped at Carnegies we met, we drank, we made out, and we exchanged phone numbers.
Because the next day, Flora texted me to share with me she had a great evening with me. After my rejection with Deborah on Thursday, I reached out to Flora for a Friday evening date, my last night in Taipei. She agreed and we met later that evening.
She strolled into the bar looking hot and dressed up. Tight open black lace top, short skirt, and black stilettos. We slid into a booth, and I started a number of toasts to encourage her to quaff her red wine. Why wouldn’t we want to toast to improving Mexican-Taiwan relations?
This expat has been living inTaipei for ten years and was an engineer.
Flora started sending out some mixed messages. She stated unequivlically that she rather shop for shoes than have sex, never masturbated, and mocked her friends for their behavior with men. Sounds bad right? Well, at the same time, she was rubbing my leg under the table. I was confused.
We finished up dinner and headed to a club at the Hyatt, Zig a Zag. This whole evening I was fighting the clock. I had to leave the hotel at 6am to fly to Hong Kong. I didn’t want to fight this one out until the wee hours of the morning.
As we rode in the taxi, we began making out. Then her hand slid between my crotch. The signals were not as mixed. I was very psyched and attempted the “old, lets have a drink at my hotel bar.” I was rebuffed and we continued to the club.
We managed to have one drink, and then we departed to the Weston. Yes, I am not the world’s best backpacker. I had a suite at the hotel.
I sat on the couch, and was quickly straddled. Clothes started to fly off and we moved to the bedroom.
Flora gets a lot of credit. I would quantify has as porn starish. The noise, the love, the effort. You cant fake that stuff. She put in 110%.
Dateline...........Taipei
12:17 am text
“have very big Triad inside. Need to stay away from me. Ill make it up to u”
This marked quite an impressive rejection from my new friend Deborah. It ended before it even started.
I met her the night before at Carnegies, Taipei, Taiwan. (free champagne for the ladies on Wednesday!) I sat at the bar and wondered if I had chosen the wrong spot. I was the only loser sitting there. Shortly later, a very firm and fit blonde girl slid onto the stool next to me. Katya hailed from Minsk and was teaching yoga and English in Taipei. Her friend Deborah joined us minutes later and I felt a strong vibe with the newcomer as we spoke over Katya. Deborah was from South Africa and was in the family textile biz.
It was a textbook takedown or so I thought, as the three of us started to do shots. My hands grasped Deborahs’. I felt good about my prospects.
Deborah is hard to describe. She would make outrageous claims that were hard to believe. As if someone told you their father had invented the question mark. I did not call her out on these assertions. Instead, I was hoping to learn more.
One claim was about to enter the bar and derail my evening. His name was Goody. Goody was the alleged number one Triad in Taiwan. Triads are a pervasive and powerful mafia in Asia. Goody’s arms were now wrapped around Deborah. Two bottle s of Black Label rested on his table.
I attempted to play the kissy face girl with Deborah and then quickly realized it was time to direct my efforts otherwise. This then resulted in a flurry of alcohol which had me puking in the bar at 4 am and drinking beer with my new friend Ming at 5 am at the 7-11 across from the bar. An all around great drinking performance, kind of Mark Phellipsian.
My phone chimed the next day at 1:30 pm. I groggily grabbed my mobile and realized I had just received my first text in Asia!
Deborah: “lets meet for dinner and drinks at 8pm”
We sat down at the Brass Monkey . The reach-for-the-stars claims began anew….she hailed from the Medici banking family, Nelson Mandela’s first wife was her nanny, she was going to put in touch with the treasurer of HSBC for a job.
The color was filling in between the lines. I calculated she was 22 and then found out that she was one week fresh from a divorce. She married at 18. Don’t worry. The settlement was only for $10,000,000. And that was Deborah giving the money to her ex-husband.
She then went on to share with me that Goody was simply a friend and a father figure to her. Who am I to second guess?
The red bulls and vodkas started. This was the drink that “made her do wild things”. Again, I felt things looked promising.
Deborah: “I was really surprised I texted you this morning.”
Rutt: “Why?”
Deborah: “well, u know…”
Rutt: “no really, why?”
Deborah: “I saw you make out with three girls last night at Carnegies.”
Rutt: “really?” (I did remember making out with a blonde Mexican, but the other two were a surprise to me.)
Deborah: “im not one to judge though.”
Her phone buzzed. A conversation in Mandarin ensued.
Deborah: “great news! My friends just invited us to the hottest club in Taipei.”
We cleared out and headed to the club. My white face bobbed in a sea of Asians. Visions of loveliness wafted by me. My arms wrapped around my prey. But the lion was not to sink his teeth in the tender gazelle.
For who strolled by us?……my good buddy and local gangster….Goody. Deborah excused herself to use the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, I received a text.
“have very big Triad inside. Need to stay away from me. Ill make it up to u”
I went home defeated. Rejected.
creepy and kind of gay
Thanks Sinjin!
Sinjin's friend's friend rolled into our late night dive. She was drunk, I was drunker. Sometime in the early morning we rolled back to my place. Maybe 3, maybe 4 am.
After a morning of unsatisfying sex, mostly my fault, we passed out.
We spoke the after some sleep. I was curious to find out her name and other bio info. Most responses from her included a "you are so creepy, gay or old" after each statement.
Cindy: "I can't believe you are 31!"
Rutt: "31?"Cindy: "You are so old" She screeched.
Rutt: "I hear you" I smiled. "How old are you?"Cindy: "25"
I didn't have the heart to tell her I was well into the middle years. I'll save that for another time. She will really think I am creepy then.
The Take Back ---- Reversed
I need to take you back to 9/23/2005. Please feel free to refresh your memory.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_09_18_rjsimpson_archive.htmlSara texted me last week. "Hi Rutt, I will be in Chicago for the week. I am packing my stuff and bringing it back to NH." She hadn't lived in Chicago in a while.
We went back and forth and settled on a Tuesday night, nestled between two trips for me. We met up at the local Mexican watering hole. Bueno for maragaritias.
She jumped out of the seat and embraced me. She seemed a little too excited to see me. She was also joined by her friend Teddie and her little sister. This potentially looked like cock block 1 and cock block 2. I wondered how I am going to pull this off.
We slurped down drinks, and as we moved from the patio to the indoor section, Sara and I started to make out.
Rutt: "I would be so psyched if you came back tonight."Sara: "I can't! My sister is staying with me."
We all hung out inside, and started angling for her return to myself. I felt like Kofi Anan as I negotiated with Sara, Teddie, and the little sister. It was like the multi-party talks in North Korea.
Finally, Teddie steped up! She was going to bring Sara's sister back to her house.
Sara and I strolled out arm and arm.
Sara: "Rutt, that was the sweetest voicemail you left me."
Rutt: "Really?" I had not idea what she was talking about.Sara: "Rutt, I save it and still listen to it."
I was quickly crunching the facts. One, it must have been a drunk dial. Two, it had to be a least a coulpe of months ago, since I bought a new cell a couple of months ago, and I did not have Sara's number in my new phone. Three, that message must have been pretty syrupy.
Sara was back in my bed, the first time in 3 years.
The Take Back had been reversed.
Please see my partner web site....
http://www.cafepress.com/fish5
9.5 for pulling, 8 for choking
With the pending 2008 Olympics I thought I would share with you some recent "scores" I received from my recent "girlfriend" Kelly.
I really thought this was the one. The one to fullfill the second of my two goals in life. The first already accomplished. Please see: Sunday, June 19, 2005, "Stripper Beautiful". My second goal is to take part in a threesome (obviously, two girls and me, not the gay version with two guys."
Kelly: "Rutt?"
Rutt: "Yes"Kelly: "Can I ask you a question?"
Rutt: "Of course."
Kelly: "How do you feel about threesomes?"
Rutt: "Pretty cool." I responded nonchantly.Kelly: "Phew...I'm really into girls."
Rutt: "Kelly, all you do is set the groundrules, and tell me what to do." (I read in Maxxim that is what you are supposed to tell the girl so she doesnt freak out.)Kelly: "Rutt, the first rule about threesomes are there are no rules."
Someone was in love!
Kelly and I met on a beautiful summer night at a roof deck party. I am terterially involved in real estate for work, and somehow this really impressed her, that and the alcohol. It seems Kelly was a real estate mogul in her own right, closing $4 billion real estate deals. I was having a hard time following the train of conversation and couldnt quite piece togehter how she went from closing billion dollar deals from managing the VIP room at the Spearment Rhino in Vegas just six months ago.
Since I am a giving person I did not really quiz her too hard on her resume, and instead convinced her to have some jaegers at my favorite late night spots. As we left my watering hole to head to my place, she propositioned my friend Nicole for a threesome as I hailed a cab.
This was one of those nights where I don't even know if I went to bed or stayed up the whole night. One of my first conscious memories was when Kelly asked at 6:30 am whether I had any porn. I quickly obliged and stuck in a girl-girl penthouse video. My honey and I curled up in my bed, with my arm around her shoulder. This was not quite Meet the Press, but yet an interesting way to start the morning.
Kelly was more than excited and claimed this to be the best porn ever. We started back at it. I closely followed her direction since she seemed to be a bit more advanced.
In the afternoon we finsished up. As we dressed, I jokingly asked:
"so how did I do?'
Kelly: "9.5 for hair pulling, and a 8 for choking."
There is always room for improvement. I'll see you in Beijing!
Postscript.... the relationship lasted 2 or 3 weeks, then she did the fade. of course no threesome. the challenge remains.
focus and sangria
I think you all remember how Grimey tried to deep six me with Carla. Somehow through divine intervention, I was ableto turn that around and I now have her on a weekday schedule.
Now Carla came over last Thursday night, and I was looking forward to seeing her naked. Literally, thirty minutes before her arrival, my back gave out. I encountered some of the worst back spasms in my life. I immedaitely contacted Dr. Grimey, and told him of my plight. he quickly placed an order for me at the CVS.
Carla entered the apartment wearing this extremely hot black dress. I was determined at that point to somehow pull this off. Carla had to put my socks on and I gently ambled to the CVS where I popped some codeine and muscle relaxers. We then proceeded to head out for tapas and sangria. Lots of sangria. Between the drugs and the booze I was ensuring that I would have no back pain.
After two pitchers we ended back in my bed. Not only did I not feel any pain in my back, my head was literally floating dettached from shoulder. I soldiered on with the deed, and then collasped in bed, having overcome my physical disability.
All my efforts were laid to rest the next day. I woke up with severe pain, and literally could not sit up. I slid onto my stomache and then rolled onto the floor. I was then bedridden for three days.
The things we do for love.
text messages on my phone
Why drunk dial one girl at a time when you can send out a blast text from your cell phone drunk at 2:30 am on a Thursday night?
Here are some responses to typically a very simple "where r u?"
"you are mean and a coward. who are you?" sharon
"who is this?" tarah
"fuck u" angdja (I think this is supposed to be Angie, but I typed in the name incorrectly)
"who r u ????" cheryl
"who is this" abby
"who is uhis" anna
"what did you want 2 talk about?" bree
"who are you?" cathy
Here is Jane at the beginning of the relationship:
"Rutt, no idle chatter when i get there. let's just get down to business. we can chit chat later."
Two weeks later:
"Rutt, no part of me wants to continue in this. im going to put some efforts into finding someone who appears to even remotely care. no hard feelings, jane."
The indecipharable:
"good. thats an easy one. we gotta get u some pigs blood ur next travel." ivy
"i dnt need the mob up my ass ova ninty bucks. this is nutz. thinking i need like an hour or so." ivy
The in depth:
"werent you the Rutt who is not meant to contact me? maybe thats why i dont know the number. uve been deleted." molly
Referring to her private parts:
"and how it taste like?" violet
Enough said:
"you ungrateful bastard. youd better overnite my jacket. perhaps i was too busy to see your ugly ass beacuase i was sneaking with someone better!" sarah
Grimey Redux
Ah, Grimey. What can I say?
I was finishing off a pretty good weekend. I had a girl sleep over on Friday night. And Carla from Venzuela slept over on Saturday night. ( I am still trying to drive down my CPI. The only problem is there is no I yet.) Now, Millhouse is quick to point out that I am not attempting to run too much tail if I am out both nights with girls. Now, I do not have much of a defense except that Sinjin never had an issue.
Now, you might remember how Grimey was trying to cock block me the other year (10/19/2006)? Well, he tried again on this past Sunday at around 1 pm. I entered the elevator with a random guy and Carla. (She was still wearing her cocktail dress form the night before, and I looked like I just got up. Since I did.)
Grimey, smiled: "Hey, Rutt! The guy who goes on two dates back to back, with two different girls!"
Rutt: "Grimey meet Carla. Carla meet Grimey."The elevator moved as swiftly as honey poured onto a girl's nip. It was a fine combination of akwardness and laughter.
I think what saved me is Carla's lack of English. But, we will see. Thanks again Grimey!
Suzy Redux
Remember Suzy from a thin line between 2 and 3........
Even MILFs use texting these days.....
This is what I received the other day:
"Rutt, no part of me wants to continue this. im going to put my efforts into finding someone who appears to even remotely care. no hard feelings. Suzy"Well, easy come, easy go.
One Degree of Separation
I grew up in a pretty wealthy town, went to an academically gifted high school, and a very competitive college. I would like to report that many of my friends are doing quite well.
A guy from high school, is penning Op Ed pieces in the WSJ, another guy produced American Pie. One of buddies from college races his horses at the Derby, and one of my other buddies was playing golf with Charles Barkley at Tiger Wood's wedding.
Me. I am running a couple of steps behind. Recent wins, getting a photo at LGA with Flavor Flav before he got his TV show. Well, I want to report, that a grade D celebrity recently hooked up with me.
This grade D celebrity, Iris, is associated with the Howard Stern show. Through a mutual friend I found myself at dinner with Iris in NYC. Dinner was cut a bit short since Ivy took a quick 4 xanaxs before the meal. Not a good solution for someone who doesn't break 100 pounds. I escorted Iris back to her apartment. Have you ever seen one of those houses inhabited by a elderly mentally ill widow? Newspapers stacked up to the ceilings from the 1950s. Iris's apartment had some similarities. I could only open the door roughly 8 inches, quite a tough squeeze. There was not one unencumbered space on the floor.
Like the gentleman I am. I tucked her into bed, and went on my merry way.
Two weeks later I was back in NYC sitting at dinner with Iris. She kept it to wine and the conversation was a little bit more focussed. At one point, she slipped out her key chain, her creation of a 8 hour day for her. It was 4 feet long. Attached was every conceivable item...flashlight, cigar cutter, condom, deck of cards, etc. This contraption caught a couple of people's attention at Nobu.
The night progressed smoothly with her wine consumption and my sake. Conversations of her dinner with Gene Simmons, to her photo shot with the Goti Family, to her fleecing of the local supermarket, to her 10 hour adventure at the pawn shop flowed through out dinner.
The night ended with Iris and me on a private 500 sq foot deck at the W hotel. Talk about a serious upgrade. We popped open a bottle of wine and peered into the city. Iris left the next day.
planes trains & autos
No, this is not an overdue review of the Martin-Candy movie. This is a quick summary of my weekend.
Before, I get into the details, I need to digress for a moment, and give a quick recap from last weekend.
Grimey, Millhouse and I were in Landmark last Saturday. I opened a Venezualan 4-set. Long dark hair, dark skin, and tight bodies. I couldn't figure out which one I wanted to get rejected by. Grimey and Millhouse offered no help, so I soldiered on bringing them to Burton Place. Shots and appletinis kept them content. At closing (430 am), I peeled off two of them and brought them to Gnookies for a breakfast. My last ruse, was the offer of a Will Ferral marathon at 6 am. The girls politely declined. I walked home with the sun rising, and had a pleasant jerk off.
Later that week I called Carla and set up dinner for Friday. My hope was we would meet at the restaurant which was a couple of blocks from my house. It seemed like she wanted me pick her up.
Friday, I landed at OHare and taxied to my place. I opened up the door at 7:15. I was running late for our 8 pm dinner. I called Carla, "
Hey, I'm running late. I just got in from my flight."
"Hola, no problem, here is my address. I'll wait." I was kind of hoping for "Ill meet you at the restaurant, you must be tired." Wishful thinking.
I showered and changed in 15 minutes, and was out on the street waiving down a cab.
I shouted the address out and we took off.
"The meter is broken, man. The fare will be $22," the Nigerian cabbie explained.
"What? That is bull shit. $22!""Man, it is far away." He responded.
"Well, then I need to go back down town to the restaurant.""OK, no problem, $50."
"J.C. Fine. Whatever.""So, this must be first date."
"No shit.""I know," the cabby started guffawing. "First time, man do anything." He continued his mocking. So, my new Nigerian friend had a laugh at my expense and my $50. It wasnt going to be my last time that evening.
Carla skipped out of her building, and it was almost worth the $50 when I saw her boobs heave out of her top. After, a quick 9 caiprinhas some dessert saki and $260 we were in my room making out. All things come to an end.
Next thing I knew, I was back in the cab at 2 am, "dropping her off." Of course the new cabbie laughed at me all the way back. The only difference he was from Ghanna.
____________________________________________________________________
Saturday morning found me in another cab heading towards Ohare. Exhausted and horny, I was off to my second date, except this one was in Washington DC. I was going back to see Katya. (see previous story Cattle Call.)
Several hours later I was at my hotel outside of DC. Yes, hotel. She lives with her daughter. No over night guest. Hell, what is another $140 at this point. Now, your thinking, Katya is probably taking me to Georgetown or some other cool place for drinks. Think again.
I ended some where deep in the suburbs for a birthday party for a 60 year old friend of the family. Oh, did I mention the dinner get together was all in Russian? Oh, did I mention I don't speak Russian. And, did I mention that I had to sit next to Katya's daughter.
Several hours later, Katya and I departed and headed off to her house for a minute. We then relaxed with chilled vodka.
"Do you want me to put on an outfit?" she blurted.
"Yes, please!"Minutes later, she descended the staircase in a see-through black teddy, thigh highs, and high heels. (Maybe, I am not so dumb after all.)
After, she revved my engine to 5th speed, she starting peppering me with questions, and accused me of only liking her for sex. I then simply begged her to take her upstairs so I could have my way with her or I threatned to call it a night and just jerk off.
Finally, we made it upstairs, and all was good. I then slept over in the guest room by myself. She dropped me off the next morning to my hotel, where I grabbed my bag and drove to the airport.
Friday
Taxi: $50
Dinner: $260
Taxi: $50
Saturday
Taxi to aiport: $40
Hotel: $140
Airline: $260
Rental car: $38
"El": $2
PS.... oh, yeah, Katya, just called me and broke it off. she said she liked me too much, and the long distance thing was going to be too tough.
Cattle Call
We just finished our omlettes at Sunday brunch, and I was wiping my mouth with my napkin.
"Well, why don't we go back to your hotel room for 5 minutes. I want you to take your pants and shirt off for a second."
"What?!" I literally spat out."I'm curious to see what you really look like."
"Well, so am I. Are you going to take your pants off?""No, it doesnt really work like that."
This is the logic that I have applied so liberally over the years with the fairer sex. Now, it seemed like the tables had been turned. Now, I was going to be the subject of the local cattle call. I didnt like the sounds of this.
This all had begun the night before when I flew in early on a Saturday for a Monday biz trip. I stayed at hotel near Katya's house. We spent the night out Saturday in the suburbs of DC. I continually absorbed all the information she shared with me that evening and was continually recalculating my odds of seeing her naked. I didn't feel real confident. This seemed like a multi-month project.
That is why I was a bit shocked with her request during brunch. We drove by my hotel, and she scooted into the hotel.
"Let's go to your room for a minute. I need the bathroom." Katya ordered.
She exited the bathroom shortly.
"Why are you wearing your pants still?"
"It's not fair. I want you to take yours off too.""Just go. I'll decide later."
I slipped my jeans and shorts off. She circled around me like the local heifer at the Iowa Agricultural Farm.
"Fine, I'll take my shirt off for you," she cooed.
I quickly segued this into a massage. This was turning into a pretty good sunday afternoon. After two hours of rubbing my boxer covered cock on her crotch, she started to break.
"Do you have any condoms?"
"Yeah!""Just kidding."
30 minutes later.
"Get those condoms know."
"Really?""Hurry, before I change my mind."
Boy Toy
Yes, that's me. Boy toy. Hard to believe? Understood. We need to go back to circa 1992, NYC. I was a bit younger, my skin was a bit more supple, and I was a lot more innocent.
One thing was consistent. I was still a heavy drinker. So with a couple of college friends we bounced from one bar to another. Getting drunker as we progressed.
Sometime in the early morning, I walked up the stairs of a dark Greenwich Village bar, and came face to face with a cougar. This was a cougar before the name was even created. She was a petite girl with long dark hair, and she was plus 11, making her 34. I was 23. She was the SVP of International Marketing at Escada. (I still have the business card) She was out with her staff taking them out for drinks.
I'll save you the embarassment of my weak wrap, but somehow I managed to pull her out of the bar. With a quick pit stop at a diner, I ended up rolling on the floor with her in her apartment.
Moon river! This cougar was well advanced compared to my limited experience. She proceeded to insert her digit in my backdoor. I clenched my but to fight her off. But she was determined.
We ended up passing out, spending some time in the morning showering together, and watching her get dressed as she prepared for brunch for a fmaily event. (I wasn't invited.)
I called her several times after, intent on seeing her again. She did not hold the same desire. I was just her boy toy.
Postscript.Why am I writing this story after 15 years later? Well, yesterday, I was reading Fortune. Specifically the Road Warrior section. This one page regular, highlights an executive who travels extensiviely for work. I read the article with feint interest. Then reread it again.
It was my NYC cougar from 1992! What a small world. Maybe I am due for the shocker when I head to NYC for the Big East.
Miami Vice
This goes back several years...the setting: Miami. The timing: Patriots in the superbowl.
Many guys head to Vegas for superbowl. Why? For a cock fight? I say head to Miami, where all those guys wives and girlfriends will be hanging out.
I watched the Patriots when the bowl with Frenchy and Juice. We then went to celebrate at Nikkis. Of course, it was a Sunday. Where else would we go?
I was running on fumes after 3 nights of heavy drinking. I slouched at a table at Nikkis with Frenchy and Juice plodded through their drinks. Beautiful appirations of South Beach girls darted in front of my eyes.
A beautiful blonde passed by me, I yelped a hello.
"Are you from NYC?" a gravelly Russian voice inquired of me. A surprised me, stood to greet her. I tripped, as I stood up to respond to her. The booze got the better of me. Juice and Frenchy laughed at me. Lydia sat down at the table to join me. Our conversation fizzled out.
"So, do you like sunbathing?"
"Yes, very much?"
"Do you ever go topless?" My loser rap continued.
She responded by lifting her shirt and showing me her boobs.
My mouth hung open.
"Do you ever go bottomless?" I probed.
She slid up in her seat, wiggled off her jeans and panties. Her triangle stared me in the eye. Her heart skipped a beat.
Next thing I know, Lydia invited me to go to the club Pearl. I waved good bye to Juice and Frenchy. The doorman cut me off at the door. No shorts allowed.
Lydia told me to go back to the hotel to change, they would wait for me at Pearl. I never ran so fast in my life. I made it back in time, praying to God, Allah, and Buddha, that Lydia would still be there. She exited Pearl as I arrived. "Good timing, we are ready to go to Opium."
A couple of hundled of people thronged outside of Opium on this Sunday night. Lydia walked off to the side and ensured me she knew how to get in. I was impressed with her pull, until I realized her pull was my buying a bottle of vodka in the VIP section. Well, she was hot, I reasoned.
The music pulsed, and we got settled in the VIP section. A bottle of Kettle was brought over. We cuddled up together, and slurped away at her drinks.
Some time passed..."Should we go to your hotel or my apartment?" I couldn't believe my luck. I quickly volunteered to go back to her place. "I just want to tell you, I am not attracted to you." My face quickly crinkled in confusion. My plans took a quick turn to befuddlement.
We made our way back to her studio, right on Collins. She broke out photo albums from Russia, and shared with me photos of her exhusband and other exes. I didn't k now the mullet was so popular. They looked like a gaggle of rejects at a Flock of Seagulls concerts.
What did she mean by "not attracted?" I pondered. Next thing I knew, she slide the photo albums off the table and started carving lines of coke. She snorted up a line or two, and then offered me to join the party.
I quickly crunched the numbers. If I snort the coke, will she sleep with me? Can I fake snorting it, and slide the white stuff on the floor? God know, I have enough trouble with alcohol. I politely declined, and hoped for the best.
She departed for the bathroom to change. I quickly jumped into her bed, rifled though her night table to hunt down some condoms....just in case.
This blonde fox, exited the bathroom in a black thong, and nothing else. Skooted into bed with me. Curled up next to me, and quickly went to sleep. My cock banged up against her back and ass. She really wasn't kidding when whe said I wasn't her type. I eventually passed out.
The sun peeked though her windows. I lifted the sheets of her body. I sighed in appreciation.
She turned over, and in a deep smoky Russian voice wished me a good morning. I quickly left for my hotel.
A for effort, not much else to show for.
Boxing Out
Sinjin van Hoekstratten, T. and I all caught up for dinner this past Thursday. You might remember Sin from our little trip down south. T. is a new character. He is actually my former boss's, boss. He is very old school, salt of the earth guy.
It was one of those perfect Chicago summer nights. Girls flowed around the city like buzzing cicadas every 17 years. We started off with multiple drinks at Sushi Samba followed by dinner, quaffing down a couple bottles of sake. We felt no pain.
We then headed off to Hubbard Street. As we jumped out of the taxi, I saw two girls who had been at Sushi Samba earlier.
I yelled over to them, "Hey, girls, Timmy (the manager of Sushi Samba) told us you would be here." I lied, Timmy told me no such thing. The ladies fell for my ruse and joined us for drinks at Rockitt.
One was a blonde, wearing a tight red dress, with large breasts exploding from her top. The other was a dark haired raven hailing from Slovenia. Another words a good pair. I squared up with the blonde...."
So what do you do?""I'm a dancer and actress."
I kept my cool, and nonchantly responded..."nude?""Yes."
"And what type of actress?""Adult."
At this time, I started to get a tingly feeling.
Next thing I knew, Sin slid in, boxed me out! What is this, high school? I just opened up this two-set, and had invested ten minutes. Now, I was looking at Sin's back as he was talking to the blonde. Very, very amateurish.
I have always been an innovator, and quickly set my sites on the Slovenian. For whatever reason, I had pretty good rap with her, and quickly forget Sin's transgressions. A bit later, we split up and Sin and I ended up at the Hunt Club.
A table of 3 beckoned us. Sin headed over first, leaned in, squared his shoulders, and worked the whole table. Despite this being a round table, Sin somehow positioned himself perfectly to block off access to all 3 ladies. Not much of a team player.
I might have to pair him up with Frenchy.
Top 5
Van and I recently had a debate the other day. It was the top 5 list, not top 5 presidential candidates, but top 5 blow jobs. Van really had very little input since most of his experiences are in a pretty deep alcoholic black out.
There are several categories of girls that give blowjobs. First, is the worst category, pain. These are girls that are so bad, that they actually cause you physical harm. The biting, the scraping, the grinding. You know the type. Your body physically shrinks as her lips move close to your member.
Second, the girl who does not give them. These girls suck. These girls fall into the dinosaur category. They shouldn't even walk the earth.
Third, girls who approach the art as it were a job. they have no love of cock in their mouth, and it shows. They know they should make their guy happy, and they give these bjs out on a sparing schedule. You know when you put the rock on their finger, you'll never get another blowjob again.
Fourth, these special angels should be draped in laurels. The pure joy and enthusiasm they bring to the game should be commended. They role up their sleeves, put their hair in a scrunchy, use two hands, their tits, and all of their mouth, just to make it happen.
#5 Saara.
This Finnish wonder wowed my world. It was a 14 hour day of drinking, and we winded up in her step father's bed at dawn. She laid me down on the bed, rubbed her giant cans all over me, and took me down in one gulp. Professional, to the point, and extremely competent. She knew her job.
#4 PJ (aka Bleeding Gums Murphy)
After a nice night of Italian food, PJ and I ended up at my place. This white bread number wanted to hold off on sex, but was quite intent on me getting a great night of sleep. Her enthusiasm was greatly appreciated, but after 40 minutes she still had not finished the job. She stopped, "my gums are bleeding." I felt some sympathy, and suggested she take a rest. She refused, started up again, and then finished the job ten minutes later. God bless her heart.
#3 Lucy
Lucy was a rock star. Her skill set was beyond reproach. I don't know how she did it, but on a consistent basis. She would work her magic, and would crack the code in under two minutes. She was so good, I had to bring her back into the rotation five years after the first session.
#2 Julie
This little sprite just loved cock. She couldn't keep it out of her mouth. Her one rule with me is she always wanted me to cum. Tears would fill her eyes, when I couldn't blow a nut. One time she threatened to fly back home after spending two hours with me, since I couldn't blow a third nut. She was the type of girl that wanted to fall asleep with your cock in her mouth. On one occasion, she spent so much time sucking it, my cock blew up like a swollen Sharpie dog from excessive coddling.
#1 Accepting applications...this could be you!
Special Mention:
My old girlfriend, Kaetlin. She was a grinder, it took a couple of months, but she was the one who finished the job. She didn't quit, and I am still proud of her.
King of the Jungle
I don't even remember how the evening started, but it ended up at Burton Place. I was already on the verge of a blackout when I entered, and that did not stop me from imbibing. Van and I spotted a pack of girls at the end of the bar. They had to be ten strong and they were huddled around the video game on the bar.
I darted around the edges of the pack, and was not having any luck. I had to think like the king of the jungle: the lion. Immediately, the girls transformed in front of my eyes into gazelles. What would a lion do? Look at the end of the pack....look for the slow gazelle, and clamp your jaw on them.
I saw my gazelle. She was a bit disinterested, and a bit drunk. I can't remember exactly what happened, but I led the gazelle right out the back door with the promise of food from a diner. We started to make out in the cab and were soon dropped off at the diner.
"Girl (I can't remember her name)! I have a great idea. Let's order pizza and hang out to my place!" I feigned excitement and surpise at my idea as we stood on the sidewalk. She consented, and we ordered a pizza, as we headed back to my place.
I soon got her naked. On the plus side, she had a couple of tatoos, a belly button ring, and a decent body. On the negative, she had not beeen to a spa for a waxing since she exited the womb. Hair covered her privates from one hip bone to the other. I can safely say that Snuffaluffagus has less hair on his crotch than this girl.
I quickly adopted to the situation. Darwinism at its best. I decided not to go down on her, and instead worked the clit. She moaned. And then I was invited in.
I can't remember if the pizza came before or after, but that was also really good.
We woke in the morning, and I looked over at my kill. I slid over, and started rubbing on her. Soon, she came, and I proceeded to get on top of her.
"What are you doing?"
"Come on, let's do it," I cooed."I don't know you. We can't have sex with you."
"We had sex alst night," I countered."No, we can't do it."
"You just came!""Sorry."
And then Snuffaluffagus, and I parted ways.
Frenchy
We all have a friend like this....took down a lot of tail in his day. He didn't necessarily have good rap. He didn't need to. He was maybe kind of good looking and girls liked him regardless.
Then there all comes a time, when this type hangs up their cleats. They get married. They give up. Then they have a several choices.
1 Takes pride in their work in the bars trying to get their friends laid. A catalyst, an expeditor, a giver.
2 Kind of a scum bad, keeps on running ass, and cheats on his wife. Who am I to judge?
3 The worst, he is neither 1 or 2. He runs tail until the bar closes, doesn't fuck the girl, and does not hand her off.
Well, one of my very good friends from Boston was in for the night. The group got together for dinner, Sinjin, Van, Grimey, Chillstein, and yes, Frenchy. We started off at Japonais. Good food, bad service, decent tail.
We then ended up at the Hunt Club (trivia, last bar Chris Farley went to before he died). Dark, cheesy, usually more cock than snatch. Tonight there were a couple of pockets of girls.
One bleached blonde grabbed Frenchy and made her intentions clear right away. I cast a quick glance at her, she looked a bit like Vegas wife when Homer and Flanders hook up with a couple of cocktail floozies on a road trip to Las Vegas.
A bit later, when she grabbed Frenchy to slow dance (to join the two teeny boppers dancing by themselves) I realized this is someone I would like to biblically meet. Nearing 6 feet, with cans jutting out of her shirt. She looked like she was on the go team.
Sin, Van, and I, peered up at the dance floor, and watched Frenchy twirl around his pseudo girlfriend with a goofy smile.
While the night was young, the three of us already knew the end result. Prediction: Frenchy and Vegas girl flirt dance, and drink to the wee hours of the night, and then Frenchy walks her to her door. No hooking up.
The next day, during our morning check in call, I realized we were correct in our prediction.
Frenchy, time to move out of category #3. You are better than that.
3 Oksanas and you're out
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006_05_28_archive.htmlAhhhh, Oksanas. Who thought I would be lucky enough to have three Oksanas in my life. Each one getting progressively worse. See above for the first two.
Oksana III is a wispy blonde with distinct Eastern European features, the high cheekbones, the pale skin, and the great ass. She dressed like she was waking down Tverskaya Ulitsa in Moscow. That means the pointy high heel shoes, and the skin tight black pants that end right under the knee. I think she was even wearing a real Sable coat.
Oksana III and I met at one of Chicago's ubquitos street fairs. Numbers were exchanged, and she had thankfully met me earlier in the day before I was really plowed. Now this street fair was back at the end of last summer. Our only date was at Starbucks. My first and only.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/09/parallel-universe.html I still wonder who these people are? Well, nothing happened at our big date. Gee, I wonder why? (pause for sarcasm) Yes, no booze.
Now, two weeks ago, I got off the plane from a weekend booze trip in Vegas. There was a message from Oksana. A little bit out of the blue. She wanted to meet for drinks. Strange.
Fast forward to Saturday. It was her birthday, and we decided we would celebrate over dinner. She was dressed to the 9s in her Eastern European way when I picked her up, and strangley was carrying a basket of flowers and balloons. Was this a hint I was supposed to get her a present?
"Who is that for?" I asked."Oh, it is also my friends birthday. I have to drop these off after dinner." Now, running through my mind, what does that mean? Is she dropping it off alone? With me? Was I going to get stuck at some lame party? Was I going to be able to hook up? Of course, I didnt bother to ask any of these questions. I'll just have to play it out.
We struggled though dinner. You know you are in trouble when you talk about the weather or how popular the restaurant is. Well, dinner came to a close.
And yes, Oksana, jumped into a cab to meet her friends downtown. It was girls night out.
I went home to watch Rescue Me.
Papi and Paco
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_06_19_archive.html
If you read the above story, you realized my quest to nail a stripper was achieved in June of 2005. It was a long journey, but there were big rewards. She and I hung for the summer, I made regular trips to Houston (she couldn't leave the state since she was on probation) to keep the flame alive...that and the lingerie shows, and the occassional lap dance at work (comped by her). As summer turned into fall, her demands grew, and I became more lazy. It was time to let this one go back into the lake. She deserved better.
My trip to Asia segued into a good exit plan to terminate our relationship. Random phone contact began when I came back from Asia. These conversations were usually punctuated with "papi, you no good. why you not call? You have china girl?"
"No, mami, it is not like that!" I know how to relate to different cultures.
Well, after many months, we just celebrated her birthday in.......Vegas! The big 3-0.
It was a quick 36 hours of trying to finish off a 12 pack of Trojans. I made it through 7 not including titty fucking. And this included the impediment of her puking all over both beds.
One minute after we finished the first time, she projectile vomited in the bed. I have had girls yell at me, cry, make fun of me, fall asleep, but never puke after finishing the nasty. I hope this was not a reflection on my prowess in the sack. But then again, it probabaly was.
Big East Redux
As some of you might recall, every March you can find me in NYC, catching up wtih my college buddies for the Big East. My team is no longer in the Big East (they moved to the ACC), but that does not stop me from attempting to befoul Gotham's female best.
To read up on past visits....please see...................
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006_04_02_archive.htmlFriday night started off with a quick 4 beers, 11 expresso martinis, and several caprihinas. To say the least, there was a pretty severe blackout. The next day, I was a mess, and that was an understatement. I couldn't move, I couldn't sleep. I kept on jerking off, hoping to pass out. Nothing happened. O'Hara called me, we were meeting for lunch at 2 on the upper west. I rallied and made my way up.
O'Hara looked at me, shook his head, and handed me a Xanax. I am not a big recreational drug user, but I didn't ask twice. (I didn't even bother to ask O'Hara why he was carrying Xanax.) I popped the pill, and leaned up against the table at the restaurant. I started drooling, and realized I better head back to the hotel. I made it back and passed out.
At 8, I was ready to join the crew down in the meatrpacking district. After a couple of rejections to younger, richer , better looking guys, I ended up at the Spice Market. There I might my future ex-wife who won't call me back. But that is a different story.
Fast forward to Sunday night, I was at Olives at the bar with Candy (please see previous story link.) Between my shakes I stole fleeting glances at her giant watermellons. I thought how long am I going to have to hold out before I have a chance of hooking up before passing out.
Several margaritas at dinner, closing in on midnight, I made my move. We ended up back at my hotel, and I continued my Big Apple streak. Great cans, and no blue balls.
Also, added note, I did call Carmela a couple of times. No call back.
23 - not a Jim Carey Review
“So, how old are you anyhow?”
“23, as she swiped her blonde hair from her face”
“Ah, that is such a great age!”
“How old are you?”
“A bit older”
“How old?”
“37”
“Oh, bueno! That is my mother’s age!!!”
I nearly spit out my drink, laughing.
Sinjin van Hoekstratten and I had arrived that Saturday. And we were south of the border, real south, south of Mexico.
As we got a lay of the land, two blocks from the hotel on foot, we were stopped by the policia. Great, I thought. We have been here for two hours and now we are going to get shook down by the cops.
“Hola, hable espanol?” the policia said.
“English”
“Very dangerous around here, be careful.”
We took his advice under guidance, cut short our tour and headed back to the hotel.
After a dinner of pinto and Imperials, we headed to the Hotel del Rey. It was a casino/bar, but it could be better described as a den of iniquities. The place was overrun with prostitutes, heavy drinking was taking place, gambling was prolific, dealers were peddling drugs outside. I was half expecting to find an illicit organ theft ring to be domiciled here to top if off.
Sinjin and I slid up to the blackjack table. Now, me, I like playing a bit of 21, but watch out when you are with Sinjin. He’s got a problem. He’ll put in a good 12 hours without pissing. He is real focused, and he can get pretty surly when he is in a cold streak.
A blonde girl sat next to me with humongous cans, hoisted in a green harness of some sort. I peered down her shirt.
“Sin,” I whispered. “Do you think she is a civilian or professional?”
“Don’t know. She is playing $25 a hand. That is a lot for a hooker down here to be putting down on each hand.”
Hours later, I passed my blond friend, still sitting at the tables, gambling away. It was the early morning hours. I slid next to her at the table. She was still drinking water, which was not favorable.
I opened up the conversation. She was from Nicaragua. Living here with her 4 year old daughter. She then shared with me her mother was my age, and was already a grandmother. They must be quite fertile in Managua I thought. Viva the revolution!
Some how we started holding hands, and even kissing each other on the cheek. I tried to ply her away from the table, but she was as single minded as Sin, who had now given back close to $2000.
After a bit, I moved this girl to the couch. I snuggled up next to her, and began kissing her. She got shy.
“Maybe, you can walk me back to the hotel it is late.” I lobbed this one out.
“Really.”
“Yeah, it is right next door.”
We clasped hands and strolled to the hotel.
“Come up for like 8 minutes. You can tuck me in.”
Minutes later we were in my room, I slid off her top, and was greeted by DDs the size of half watermelons. They were so large I had trouble embracing her. After a bit more Anthony Robbins power of suggestion, we were both naked, enjoying the forbidden fruit.
She slept over, and left before the free brunch to get home to her daughter.
Nice girl. Never caught her name, though.
It Is A New Year!
But the same old shit. My neighbor encouraged me to throw up a post since I have been pretty lazy.
A group of about 10 headed over to a new bar in River North. It was all you could drink for $100, so you know they lost money on me and the lrest of the cabal. Far and I opened two set, 2 pretty hot long dark haired girls. Far droned on "about this being a new bar" before he quickly faded out with his sub par wrap. I was a bit scared that he was going to bring up the weather. I quickly retreated after him after I threw him under the bus.
A bit later, Van and I opned another two set of dark haired sweeties that I had my eye on. I settled up next to the taller one. I felt her eyes on me, and turned and opened. It was a knife through hot butter. You could tell she wanted to talk to someone, and that someone was me. I like winning by default. Van was having a difficult time getting on the other one to focus. We think she was on X. My new soul mate, Karen, shared with me her friend just dropped 40 pounds, got new tits, liked Indian and black guys, and did not often come home until the next day. This sounded perfect until you look at Van's pasty skin and realize he might not fit into her ethnic profiling.
I looked down at my watch which read 10 PM. I sighed as I realized I would have to entertain this girl for a couple of hours so I could make out with her. A lot of effort for a lazy person. Then Karen shared with me that her boyfriend was at home with his kids. My enthusiam deflated in front of her eyes. I than repeatedly threw him under the bus and realized that this was not quite an official boyfriend. And of the the Jaeger helped smooth the way.
The countdown started and mauling of her began at the stroke of midnight. This continued for an hour or two, including ass grabs, and sid of the tit rubs. We parted ways after exchanging numbers. Her friend was too drunk, or Karen was hooking up with someone else.
Van grabbed me. He needed to meet his new squeeze from the other night. There were no cabs to get. We hailed a Suziki Sidekick with some high school or college kids driving in it. Van offered them a quick $40 to head to Bucktown. Edward I and II sat up front swigging no name Rum from the bottle. In the back was Elizebeth, Van and me. I somehow managed to push Van who wa
s in the middle of the back seat up, up, gran Elizebeth and make out with her. Subtle.
We arrived at the bar, Van grabbed his booby friend. I squared off with her roomate. A skinny cute girl. She immediately complained about my age (and Van's) being too old. This went on for a bit, she left to go to the can. We hugged, I tried making out with her, was denied and never seen again.
A couple of other female stragglers rolled into the bar. I grabbed one of the girls, got rejected, moved on to her friend, and began a make out session with her. I tried to convince her and all of her friends for a late night. I was met with the offer of taking her to dinner instead.
I departed, leaving Van in the bar, and made my way home.
Happy New Year!
My New Fans..............
It looks like I have a new fan....
http://lolabelle.blogspot.com/ You can go this girls's site....and then she has a link titled......
This guy is a serious douchebag. His blog is all about banging any chick who'll let him. (I guess she did not take the time to really get to know me, maybe we can meet when I go to NYC?)
And guess what, that link is to my site........
Thanks to my new fan who runs this site. Don't be so shy about your feelings.
Last Laugh
She could dance up a storm....I am not sure of her name....Laura, Janet, maybe even Corey. She danced like an angel at The Terrace Lounge in the Marriott Copley. Despite being a bit gassy, she took my breath away. And quite the kisser.I think in error, she punched in her wrong phone number in my cell, after she explained when listing her favorite attributes of mine, that she only found me a bit overbearing.Don't worry, I am still free for your friend's wedding. I met this angel the other week in Boston. Maybe at the cheesiest bar in Boston. That is The Terrace Lounge at the Marriot. A true treat for those who get to get out on perhaps a bi annual basis. Time to break out those leather pants, cowboy boots, and silk shirts.
Well, I strolled in around midnight, after a full day of boozing. I immediately opened up a two set, and delivered them to the dance floor. Both were of solid quality, one faded away, and I ended up with the one pictured above.
A little kissy kissy later, a number exchange, and a bit of rubbing up against each other on the dance floor, and we parted ways when the bar closed. I was not going to be able to close this tonight.
As I raced home in a taxi, I lobbed a quick call to "Corey". Voicemail picked up. It was a guy named, Corey. It looks like I was had.
A week later, I decided to place one more call. The phone was answered, it was her (whatever her name is). We spoke for a bit, I was drunk, and really dont recall the conversation. She said call the next day. I did, and the orginal guy, Corey answered. I was a bit confused. Is Corey her boyfriend, roomate??
I decided to put all my chips in. That means, of course a quick add in Craigs list for Missed Connections (see above). At least, I can maybe embarras her in front of her friends and family.
Man are from Mars, and
Women are from Venus. I have been spending a lot of Mondays and Sundays with Spi da.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/08/spi-da.html She really is quite a treat. She doesn't like to go out, doesn't really eat, and has no problem wasting her away in front of TiVo, and then having sex with me. She defines low maintance.
I have been teasing her quite a bit since she has never seen a porn before. I was quite proud of her when the other night she took the initaitve when she took the bus to my place and brought over a porn, Asian Fever #13, which is pretty fitting since she is Asian.
We slipped the DVD in, and jumped in bed. Now, here is the part that she did not quite understand. She decided to give a running commentary on the movie. She didn't quite grasp the idea that she needed to get on all fours and blow me when I gazed emptily at the screen with my hands behind my head.
"My, the girl has such straight legs."
"I don't understand, there is no story."
"She has such nice skin." This one was my favorite. She was not commenting on a girl's face, but on her ass. There was a close up of some girl's but getting railed in the ass. And all she could comment was on the clarity of her skin. She didn't think there was a need to comment on some guy's 12 inch slong.
Grimey. What happened to you?
Do you remeber Rubab?
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/07/rod-in-chicago.htmlI went out with her this week, and she looked real good..... Even without alcohol, I had her coming back to my place after the concert we attended. I got a ride home with Grimey and his new official girlfriend, who was alos at the same concert. Great show by the way, the Killers.
Grimey (in the car ride back home) "did you guys eat yet?"
Rutt: "I just ordered food for us, it is being delivered."
Grimey: "Cancel it, we will all go out to eat."
Rutt: "Ahhh, that is OK, I have to get up early." I was about to go ballistic on Grimey. What was he thinking. I had levered Rubar to coming to my place, and he wants me to spend time making his girlfriend laugh? Was he trying to cock block me, or had he already gone soft after having a girlfriend for one month.
Grimey: "That is OK, I have to get up early as well."
Rutt: "No, I have to really get up."Grimey, "Come on!"
Maybe the honeymoon was already over. You know when you start hanging out with a girl...and the first month it is actually fun. You don't even mind hanging out with her solo. Then after a month, you have to start inviting other couples, so you don't get stuck talking to her all night. Maybe Grimey, is in that situtation already. That is fine, but don't bring me down.
Postscipt, Rubab and I hooked up. But no thanks to Grimey.....
A Parallel Universe
A number of times in the evening I have walked by the Starbucks at the corner of Wells and North Avenue. I have always been perplexed. Who are these people on a Friday night huddled over lap tops, engaging in meaningul conversation, and drinking a double latte? I am usuall walking by on my way to getting plastered.
It is like a parallel universe, I wondered how can I tap into this whole network of girls that hang out at a location like that... Well, last night, I had my first Starbucks date, even though, it began under false pretenses.
A couple of weeks ago, I volunteered at a street fair. It was Wine Crush, and I was pouring wine at one of the big tents. I figured who is going to go to a wine street fair besides tons of single girls. Wow, was I wrong! hundreds of people thronged though our tent, but literally there was only one girl that I bothered jerking off to. There were couples, old people, groups of guys, and fat girls. What a dissapointment. On the plus side, I did manage to polish three bottles of wine.
Near the end of the day, a hot girl poked her head into the side of the tent, and propelled her wine glass at me. "Can yo please fill me up? There is a wait of an hour to get in your tent." I obliged, and started filling her glass up, and working my meager magic. She quickly let it be known she had a boyfriend, but she mentioned she was with her girlfriend that she wanted me to meet.
A minute later, her friend, Oksana strolled over. She was a foreigner, and probably Russian, I mused. I quickly learned she was from ukraine. This was perfect, I just got back from there the other week. I threw some local Kiev landmarks around, and dropped some Russian phrases in. She was somewhat impressed or wanted to get rid of me, and handed me her business card.
Several days later, she texted me, saying she wanted to talk, but she was working at Starbucks. I quickly fantisized about me bending her over the cappuchino machine with her green apron on. Then a couple of days later, on Monday, she texted me to stop by and visit her at Starbucks. I strolled in at 7:30 pm and scanned the bar. No Oksana. Then I spied her at a table with a laptop, and wearing a skirt. Has she not started her shift...?
I walked over, and sat down with her. I quickly learned there was a miscommunication. She doesn't work at Starbucks, but does her own personal work there. We hung out for about a half an hour, but then I had to leave since I had dinner with another girl at 8:30.
A whole new world......
Update
Sorry for being so damn lazy. First, an update on Spi da......
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/08/spi-da.html This girl is close to perfect. CPI is close to $0. Last night she came over. Parked on the street. Didn't want take out. Didn't want to rent a DVD. We had sex 4 times, that is divided by $0....you can figure out the rest. And no lip!
Of course, you remember Dina....
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-starting-to-scare-myself.html We went out one more time, had a brief make out session. I invited her up to snuggle, but she had an early manager's meeting. She promised to spend more time with me next time. Which, I of course assumed to mean sex. Next time has not happened, since she blew me off the next time we were supposed to go out. Still have not heard from her.
I ran into Sara again...
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/07/again-and-again-take-back.html. Another late night make out session, tweaking her nipples in the bar, and the same result. She wouldn't go home with me. When will she learn?
3 Perfect Days in Kiev
My outstretched hand pushed the 100 hryvnyas to the cashier. Her eyes rolled back in slight disgust. She yelled over to her coworker in Russian. Her coworker stared me down, and nodded her head in the affirmative. They would accept my $20 after all.
I slid through the metal detector and was soon cozied up to the bar in the Mandarian Plaza in Kiev, Ukraine, surveying the scene. The table
near me was a gaggle of dvevuyskas, average height 6 feet, average weight 110lbs, and average age 19. I was hoping one of these beautiful young redwoods would drop her drink on me or step on my foot, anything for attention. No luck.
I pounded down drinks, some nasty Ukrainian swill, and then finally started a walking tour of this cavernous disco. My head could not swivel fast enough. I neared the other side of the bar, and then my eyes locked with a blonde, her boobs protruding though her shirt. She smiled. I could tell I was in. We shared a drink, smiled, and conversed the best we could. I was on.
"500"
"What?"
"$500 and I will be your girlfriend." The air was knocked out of me.
"Are you kidding, I sleep with tons of girls in America for free!" I postured and exegerated. Next thing I know her friend who was pushing 20 joins the conversation...
"$1000 for the two of us," they chanted. The conversation ended regarding prostitution, but I still hung out with them to pass the time.
Then I approaced a 5 set. I stuggled with some sentences, trying to make some headway. I fianlly gave up, and then one of the girls, approaced me and said "please don't talk with us anymore."
"I wasn't even talking to you anymore," I responded defensively.
Around the corner of the bar, I spotted two more Redwoods, towering over 6 feet. I hung out with them for a bit, until they slipped away into the crowd.
Then I spied an 11. This girl was what dreams were made of. Some loser guy was talking to her. I waited untill he slipped away. Here was my chance. I strode up to the beauty.
"Zrasdtuity, kawk dzal?" I offered.
"I am from Canada," she sneered.
"Stay away from my girlfriend!'" the loser guy interjected.
I leaned up against the bar, and overheard two girls speaking English with the bartender. I moved in. They happened to be two Muslim girls from Morocco. They were in Kiev on a conference. I started hanging out with them. One was very cute, but of course she was not drinking, the other was OK, and boozing. It didn't matter since they left. I
do have their emails for the next time I find myself in Casablanca.
Things were getting late, I strolled around the bar, and finally saw one girl over 30. Good body, decent face, clownish red hair. This was the one. I walked over and introduced myself.
"$250, or $500 for me and my friend." This ended the conversation quickly. I left the disco and headed downstairs to the casino. What could be a better idea, then going to a casino at 4 am after drinking 11 hours.
I saw two beautful raven haired girls at the blackjack. I immediately bee- lined it to the their table. I really impress these 2 with my Vegas skills. I whipped out 2 Benjamins. I was wiped out in 7 hands, and didn't even get a free drink. I planted myself at the bar in the casino. The two girls from my table neared me, and I gestured them over. We hung out for a bit, and then we exited together. We stood on the street, I offered them late night food, going to another bar, or drinks at my apartment. As I was trying to close them. This total Ukrainian prick cock blocked me, and was trying to kill my two set. He then told me he had been living in CA, but he has moved back. He jangled his car keyes
at the girl. "Let's go for a drive in my Lexus." The girls declined, and finally made their exit.
"This place is incredible. I am never moving home!"
"What do you mean?""I am getting laid every night, by girls that look like models! I just fucked a girl in the bathroom upstairs."
"Good work.""It is so much easier here than LA," as he showed me pictures in his cell of girls he nailed. "It took me two weeks to figure it out. How long are you here for?"
"Three nights.""Oh, maybe you should have stayed longer."
I'm starting to scare myself
YOU'RE TOO HOT TO PAY YOUR OWN BILLS!!!You are some kind of amazing, aren't you? Your hair is like spun silk, your skin is flawless. You manage the increible trick of being incredibly busty while having the tiniest, nipped in waist. You've got legs that go on for days. You're witty and smart and a brilliant conversationalist. . .well that last sentence is optional, Can't say I care much about that. And they expect you to do what? To work? To go to a job? So you can eat and pay rent? Someone as gorgeous as you? That aint right. That's where I come in. I'm an investment banker downtown. And I'll be honest with you, I'm not much myself in the looks department . But what I do have is a nearby apartment I'm not using. And a bunch of cash and a couple of credit cards I'm not using either. Rather than go to . . ugh. . .work. . .why don't you use the apartment and cash and credit cards I'm not using? Now, I'm gonna be upfront. This generous offer isn't simply so you can have the privilege of living in my place, spending my money and watching my credit card balances grow. No, I would expect that in exchange for these privileges you will gladly, willingly and enthusiastically fulfill my deepest desires, especially of a sexual nature. Let's call it an arrangement. In order to qualify for this arrangement, I'll need to see several clear photos of you, both face and body.And please don't give me any excuses about the craigs list size limit. If you don't have the brains to figure out how to reduce the size of your photo, you're disqualified. If I'm interested, I'll get badk to you, if I'm not, I won't. So let's hear from you and see those pics. Otherwise, don't give up your day job
Wow, I just read this for the first time as I did this blog. It is pretty fucking funny. This is an add I plagarized from some guy in NYC on craigslist.com. The funny thing is I got 2 responses.....read the below from Dina.....
Hi my name is Dina What do you think??
sent you a picture of me on the beach. I also just wanted to find out a little more about what you wanted.
I am a 27 year old blonde female. I live in the burbs, but my lease is coming up so I have been looking for places in the city. I work full time in Naperville. If you and I click would it still be okay if I worked? Also just wondering if you have a wife or a girlfriend? Not that makes a difference for us.
dina...what can i say. of course i love the photo. i wish i was there in PR with you...
i am not married/no girl friend. i live downtown
so what are the next steps.......
Let me know your schedule and we can figure out a meeting time..
We could meet and see if we click. Maybe set some arrangement up that works for both of us. Let me know more of what you'd like and I can let you know I can fullfill it. Make it easier for both so we have no games.
What do you think?
Dina
are you free to meet sunday night?I will be off work between 9:30 and 10 if that is ok for you I can meet you after. Can you tell a little about you? Like things you like to do, color of your hair, eyes, your age, where you're from, do you have kids, etc etc.
talk to you soon
Dina
So Dina and I met last night at tenish. I was exhausted from the weekend's imbibing, and I was not really looking forward to more drinking, but I needed to soldier on. Dina strolled in, and for accuracy sake, she did not look as good as the photo. But my curiosity was really scratching my taint. What is this girl thinking? Did she really believe the add?
We cozied up at a table and I learned her life story. Small time mid western girl from IA, managing the local Applebees. She grew up Mormon, but was now converting to become a Buddhist. This did not sound like a Buddhist answering those emails......
We made a lot of small talk, without ever mentioning the add that brought us together. As the evening progressed, we started holding hands, her nails rubbing my leg. I was starting to get a bit bothered.
We decided to part, and meet at a later date. I walked her to her car, where we grasped and made out.
To change or not to change....
I am a pretty lazy bastard, but I have a dilemma. Last night, I nailed Cindy.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/08/spi-da.html You might remember her, she likes to snack on spiders. Well, tonight, I am going out with Kathleen,
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/07/phishing.html.
So here is the questions, hedging my bets that Kathleen will sleep over. Do I change my sheets? But it is a pain in the ass. All you need is one tell tale, hair, earing or stain, and then you have a lot to explain.
Let me bring back a couple of years.......to Katya (
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2002_12_29_rjsimpson_archive.html the second story on this link).
The first night I nailed Katya, she was putting on her clothes to go home.
"Do you have girlfriend?" she questioned me in her Russian accent.
"No, of course not," I feigned insult."You girlfriend have black hair?" Katya had long blonde hair.
"No. no girlfriend!" I didn't per say have a girlfriend, but I was hooking up with two other girls with long dair hair.
"Look, you girlfriend have dark hair." Katya held a long strand of black hair between her fingers.
"That is my hair," I lied."No, your hair short, this long."
I kept denying, and progressively guided her to my door, and ushered her out.
This began a two sheet set methodology that I used quite profeciently. Depending on who was sleeping over that night, I would use a different set. The blonde, would get the tan sheets, and the two dark haired girls would get the grey sheets.
I am off now, time to change the sheets....
Akward
I met Kitty about 6 weeks ago at one of Chicago's numerous street fairs. Street fairs are a simple euphanism for drinking on the street starting at elevan in the morning. You don't have to twist my arm.
The fair was closing and I spied Kitty on the corner with her girls. I swooped in , her kissing me on the cheek within minutes. The cellphone popped out, and her number was provided.
Several days later, I called, and left Kitty a message. The next I received a voicemail from her.
"Ah, Rutt, I am embarassed to say, I don't know who you are."
We caught up the next day, I jogged her memory, but still it was not any help. She likes her booze. I invited her out, but she was non commital. The call ended.
A couple of weeks later, Kitty calls me. "My friends and I are having a party, please come." The message stated.
I call Kitty the day of the party, and told her I will try to make it. Seventeen rum and cokes, I am in a cab, passed out, trying to get home. I did not make Kitty's party.
This Monday, the phone rings....
"Hi, Rutt, it is Kitty. We didn't finish the keg Saturday, why don't you come over tonight, and help us finish it."
"I am so sorry, I am walking out the door right now. Let's meet Wednesday night.""Sounds great."
Wednesday, I make my way to Cafe Barbareeba. Kitty is sitting at the bar. I introduce myself to her. We immedaitely, work our way through a pitcher of Sangria. Why let any akwardness slow us down. The conversation flows, and we decide to polish off another pitcher. The restaurant closes, and we walk down to the pub next store.
We saddle up at the bar, and proceed to drink more.
"Rutt, how old are you?"
"31," I lied. I didn't have the heart to tell her I was old enought to be her creepy uncle."Ohhh, I am only 23. I have to be honest with you. I don't date above 28. I think it a bit akward otherwise."
"Oh, I understand, but I really think age is simply a state of mind." I bullshitted."I don't think so. It is so many different life experiences. But, I am having the best time with you. I really want to hang out with you."
The lights flickered on. We closed down another bar.
We are now on the street outside of the bar.
"It is pretty late.""Come on, let's have one more drink!" Kitty enthused.
Back to the future, we are now saddled up at another bar, drinking, but this time a bit closer, my arm around her back, her leg entangled with mine.
We finish up our drinks and we find oursleves on the sidewalk.
"Kitty, I was thinking. I know you want to be friends. But, I think to just make sure there is no romantic spark, we probabaly should make out for a little bit to make sure that this is not a romantic connection."
Kitty, was visibly dissapointed. Here, I was already breaking our trust as friends. I pulled away, and waived down a cab.
The cab stopped, passenger door open. Kitty hugged me, I kissed her on the cheek, then I found her lips on mine. After making out for several minutes on the sidewalk, the cabbie, started blaring his horn. I kicked the door closed, he drove away, and I continued with Kitty.
Finally, we stopped, and we parted ways.
Yes, her creepy uncle. That is akward.
I See You
So who reads this shit anyhow? Did you know I can see you. I would like to give a shout out to some of my more avid readers….Dekalb, IL, Columbus, North Billerica, Cambridge, a young lady at an advertising agency in Chicago, and London (I think these are the Brits that I met in Ko Samui.), plus many more.....
Well, there is another whole group, who finds this site by mistake…..simply by putting in a couple of key words in google, some unlucky souls have stumbled on to my site. Here are some examples of key words that will miraculously produce rjsimpson.blogspot.com…..spread the word!
"She unzipped my pants" prom kiss
google video russian dyevs
"call girl" "straight to voicemail"
"howard stern" "daddy's girl" game strip daughter
"half irish" "half persian" babe
"Aunty"+"Delhi"+"bra"+"boobs"
old man vvip nudes
why did monique get quicked off the plane
Lyrics I got bad bad habit baby mabe is you techno
"two pumps and a"
Here's me doing some everyday shopping, but this time I needed it to be a little bit more spicy. That's why I decided to be a little bit adventurous today, look at me flashing and masturbating outside.
"shaved box"
"he is wearing a thong" actor
clip C-130 take-off RATO
shaved psuuy
kiefer "sutherland's" publicist Wolf-Kasteler
steam+traps oriface+plates
katooey (I was the number one result for this one on yahoo search)
spi da
Ok, the Chinese are known for eating everything. When you live through a couple of famines under Chairman Mao, ants, cats, and pig penis starts looking pretty tasty.
I went out with Cindy on Thursday night. She is from China and has been living here a couple of years. She came for her MBA and never left. We started emailing on Yahoo Personals and made plans to meet at a bar near her apartment.
Twenty minutes on the L, I arrived at the bar. The bar turned out to be a local pizza joint. Not really a good place to make the moves. Cindy stood outside waiting for me. Wearing a body hugging dress, high heels, and black hair cascading down her shoulders. She was tiny, real tiny. I have seen celery sticks with more meat on it than her.
We sat in the pizzeria, and I plowed down several drinks since. I was meeting out Van after my little date. She nursed a drink, well, at least she was drinking something.
I attempted to keep the conversation going with rapid fire questions, and then we got on the subject of food.
"So did you eat anything in China that Americans think would be strange?""Ahh, dog."
"Anything else?""Cat."
"How about a grasshopper?""No, but I like spi da. Very good."
"What about American junk food?""I like pizza lot."
"Did you ever put a spider on top of your pizza"Giggle, giggle. "No, but I also like Dunkin Donut."
"For a snack, what would you rather eat...spider or donut?"Pause.
"Mmmmm, spi da."
Nothing happened that night, but we are going out this weekend.
dinger - long ball - tater - four bagger
Keeping with my summer theme of baseball, I finally broke my slump, and hit one out of the park. I was seriously starting to get nervous......
Remember Basia, she blew me off this past Friday night. Well, I texted her Tuesday to see if she was doing anything on Wednesday since had nothinbg going on. A couple of texts later and she was driving to my house for a 8 PM dinner.
I emailed her the directions, which are pretty simple. She lives in the burbs. She called me three times circling my condo. "Where can I park? Is this a legal space?" What the fuck? Have you ever driven into the city before? Can you not read the parking sign? Finally, she gave up, and I told her to head into the parking garage. I told her I would meet her in the lobby by the elevator. She had to call me four more times from the garage, and she spent an additional twenty minutes driving in the gargage. The last time she called me she was close a nervous breakdown with full blown profanity. I was seconds away from telling her to go home.
Finally, the elevator doors crawled open, and I gazed upon Basia. Basia is a FOB-MILF-Cougar. She wore a short skirt and tiny tank top which encirlced her slim Eastern European body. I gave her a hug and told her we needed to destress her with margaritas.
She was a light eater, just a bowl of soup, which let the margaritas work their magic even more quickly. The flirting increased with the touching. I brought her back to my place under the ruse of looking at my photos from Poland.
Instead, I poured her a big glass of vodka, and turned on some music. Minutes later we found ourselves in my room, her skirt psuhed up above her waist.
"All you want to do is fuck me!" she spoke in heavily accented English.
"If that's what you think, you can go home now, it is not like that."Minutes later, we were both stripped down, condoms were produced. Besides a massive coughing fit, I performed somewhat adequetly. We fell asleep at 4 AM.
Woke up, when I slipped it in one more time, and then I had her drive me to work.
I was quite fresh for work!
A-Rod in Chicago
People aren't booing me yet, but I am in one hell of a cold streak. Saturday morning, yet another girl slept over in the guest room. Things weren't always this bad. The begining of this year, I was fucking a hot stripper, finger blasting a run way model from the Ford Agency
http://www.fordmodels.com/main.cfm on Wednesay afternoons, and banging an former Bulls Cheerleader. Maybe, I lost my mojo.
Friday night I had tickets for the Fray, who rocked by the way. I was bringing a Polish Cougar (
http://www.urbancougar.com/ ) who had emailed on Yahoo Personals. She wasn't exactly my dream date, 39, 12 year old kid, but on the plus, she struggled with English and had a very strong body. We spoke a couple of times and she planned to drive to my house on Friday at 7:30 PM.
My cell phone chimed, a new text message....."sorry, I cant make, car is broken". It was 6:30 PM. I called up Basia. In her broken English she explained her plight. I suggested the subway. She explained she had never taken it. She then offered to meet me at 11 pm or so, when her friend was going to drive her in to go dancing. I shook my head in utter disapointment, and hung up. I now had one hour to find a date for the show......the clock was ticking.
I hit the phones....left voicemails, sent texts, and even posted an add on Craigslist.com. I left for the gym, and came back one hour later.....two voicemails, one text and one email (some random girl from craigslist who did not know who the Fray was). One voicemail from Rubab, this girl I used to nail had volunteered her service.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_05_08_rjsimpson_archive.html and second story here....
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006_02_19_rjsimpson_archive.htmlAn hour later, she showed up at my house, wearing long blue skirt, and this tiny top which I had to help her tie up.
I am not sure how it happened, but Rubab got drunk, I mean really drunk, like fall on my ass drunk at the show. The kissing began, the hugging. Maybe, I wasn't that bad in bed after all. I literally had to carry her into the cab. She started kissing me, and rubbing my crotch.
I brought her back to my condo and placed her in the spare room. Her skirt, lifted up, no panties. Her muff stared me in the eye. She grabbed at me, and kissed me.
An internal struggle raged inside me. The good angels were victori
us. I kissed her goodnight, and went to my room with a kleenex. I didn't want to Urke her.
Again and Again, The Take Back
Oh, I am really fucking angry, and fucking tired. After an all-star drinking performance on Saturday, I found myself sucking down Kettle lemonades on Sunday listening to Cowboy Mouth at an outdoor street festival.
I am at a local watering hole after the festival ends, watching 22 year old females booze it up. My phone chimes...it is Sara, and it has been over a year.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_09_18_rjsimpson_archive.html (Second story)
"Do you want me to meet you?" If doesn't sound like a lay up, I don't know what is. Thirty minutes later she strolls into the bar. She wore a skin tight t-shirt, and tighter jeans. I sat down on the edge of the booth. In less than twenty minutes, she was grinding her crotch on my leg. I felt good about this one.
We switched bars, and a little kissy kissy. I slid my hand up her shirt, and tweaked her little nips. (no bra, it is a good look in the summer.) She danced around me, as I stared at her ass.
We switched bars, again. It is now past 2 am, and I am running on fumes, and getting a bit frustrated.
"OK, let's take off...""What?"
"Why don't we go?""I am not just going home and having sex with you!"
"No, I think you should come over and just watch Entourage," I lamely lied."No, we have to go on three dates!"
I smiled, nodded my head, and walked out of the bar.
I didn't have the heart to remind her, I fucked her the first night. Never mind Semog nailing her in the tub.
Phishing
A quick update regarding Oksana...
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/06/still-sketchy.html Remember the real skecthy one.....well, I don't want anyone to get upset, but we broke up. I didn't even know we were dating. Since I hooked up with 0.0 times. But here is the email to prove it....
Hey...I was thinking about our little confusion last week and I think we are totally on different levels right now. I can't move as fast as you probably would like me to and don't want to get you upset with me because of that. I rather just try to get to know you as a friend, giving you a chance to see and maybe find a right girl for you. If we'll grow into something more, then it's great, if not, at least I got a friend out of this.
I was not sure how to tell you that because I still like you, just did not want to lead you own and end up burning bridges.
Therefore, I think you should take someone special on Wednesday, instead of me and we'll still hang out and talk, but just as friends for now.
Hope you not mad with me, just thought honesty was the best way to go.And on another note, one girl has rentered the picture......
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006_04_16_rjsimpson_archive.html Do remember Kathleen? We had one date, and then she never called me back when we had made plans. Well, last weekend, I sent out a quick 40 text messages at 2 am "w r u?" It is what is known as phishing in junk email jargon. At this point I have collected so many names and numbers in my cell phone over the years, I don't even remember who these girls are anymore. Texts started seeping back...."who are you?"....and "fuck off". The texts lasted until monday afternoon. But there was one I was very surpised to hear back from....Kathleen. "How are you? I just got back from Mexico!" I texted something back, and she responded instantly. Maybe she thinks I am somone else I mused. I then picked up the phone and we spoke for a while. Made plans to meet for dinner. I took her to a great Mexican restaurant, with very powerful margaritas.
The waitress came by....
"Hi, any drinks?"
"Diet coke," Kathleen ordered. A wave of depression rolled over me. This was like finding a lump of coal in my stocking Christmas morning.
"You don't want a margarita?" I attempted. "They are relly good here.""No, not tonight. I got to wake up early."
The night ended uneventfully. We are supposed to go out tommorow, let's see if happens.
match.com, Saigon style
I stood in the lobby of the Peace Hotel on the Bund of Shanghai. It was eleven in the evening, my "girlfriend", Max, waited for me in my bed...........................
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2004_02_08_rjsimpson_archive.htmlI dailed what seemed like over two dozen numbers, and I was then finally connected to a soft feminine voice in Saigon, Vietnam.
"Hello. Rose?""Who this?"
"Rutt""Who?
"Rutt""Who?
"Rutt, we met on match.com. We emailed each other like a month ago.""Oh," she responded, still not registering my voice.
"How are you? I am coming to Saigon tommorow. I am staying at the Sheraton.""Oh, I meet you there tommorow at 7pm. I am sleeping now. We talk tommorow."
I shook my head in confusion, and headed upstairs to plow Max one more time before I left China. I recalled the email we had shared a month earlier....................
FLOWERS FOR YOU! Hi dear ,
I am very happy to know u and will have chance to receive u here , at my city. Pls let me know when u arrive at the city . We will meet and talk .I just back hom from Hkg , 5 days there is so interesting trip .
Looking forward to seeing u soon .
Love - rosie linh
The rush of traffic greeted my arrival to Saigon. I was whisked to the Sheraton a new 5 star hotel for $95 a night. We dodged the multitude of motorbikes.Rosie met me shortly after. I wasn't psyched, but I wasn't overly dissapointed either. Nothing I could not diffuse with tons of beer I thought as I leered at her body. We walked to a nearby outdoor cafe and joined the throngs. I immedaitley ordered a ba-ba-ba, yes, I speak Vietnemese. That means 3-3-3, a local beer. It doesn't taste that special, but it is cool to say. She ordered a fruit plate and a juice. A fucking what!!!!?? She quickly explained she did not drink. I rolled my eyes, and realized I was going to
have to talk more than I anticpated.
Our evening, came to a close, I walked her to her motobike. I attempted a quick kiss, but Rosie explained just as quickly that this was a formal, conservative country. Despite all these negatives, we made plans for the next evening.
The following evening, she knocked on my hotel door. The prior evening, I had repeatedly told her how impressive my room was. She came up to investigate. The ruse worked. Then began a bizarre conversation for an hour on American culture from someone who had made their determination of the facts via American Pie and American Gigalo. And the occassional desparate match.com guy who called her from America.
"I was told American women are bitchy and bossy."
"Who said that?"
"A man, who called me from match. He says he wants to visit me."
"There are 150 million women in the US, from every country and religion in the world. They are very different."
"The guys who call you, probably find it very difficult to get an American girlfriend." This pointless conversation went on for an hour.
But strangley, near the end of the conversation, she was sitting on my lap. I was rubbing her legs and back. I then tried to kiss her. Her head turned away. She blushed.
"I never kiss boy before." I excused myself to the bathroom.
I came back, she was lieing in my bed. Reading a book. I really was quite perplexed. I lied down net to her and started spooning her and rubbing her stomache. I tried again to kiss her. she moved away. I slid my hands up her shirt, and rubbed her boobs. Then pulled her shirt up, and unhooked her bra, and started sucking on her boobs. She was on page three.
"How long you have sex for?"
"Umm, sometimes, two minute, sometimes 30 minutes. It depends.""Hmmm, I never had sex before," she commented. I continued sucking on her boobs.
"Let's have sex," she volunteered.
I ran to the bathroom, and reentered the bedroom, with a rubber on full mast. She lied there naked, with a long tuft of hair jumping from her crotch. I slid in. It was more like the two minute version as I finished. She looked puzzled.
"Are you ok?""It kind of hurts," she offered. Her phone rang. She jumped up like a jack rabbit, and ran to the bathroom.
I listened to the one sided conversation.
"Who?"
"Who?"
"Who?"
"Ohhhhhh, Mike!" she exclaimed.
"Me, too!"
"I can't wait!"
"Yes."
"When you be here?"
"Great."
"Ok, bye."
"I can't wait to meet you." She entered the room, either oblivious or carefree that I heard the entire conversation. I tried to stifle my laughter. She crawled into the bed. Minutes later her phone rang. It was her sister. She had to go home. I walked her to the motobike. Bid good bye. She drove off, I laughed.
I walked off to the
nearest bar, drank some ba-ba-ba s and had a great fucking time. Never saw her again.
Its a Small World After All
He is kind of a ADDer, loud mouthed, arrogant, cheesy, big spender with a penchant for hot Asians. No, its not me, it is a guy I know, Brillstein. But, he is kind of my buddy, so I like him.
He went to Vietnam last year, and was picking my brain.
"How are the girls in Saigon?"
"They are extremely beautiful.""So where do most of the whores hang out?"
"Well, I don't really know. I m
et a girl, Me, there my second night and hung out with her the whole time.""Yeah, but are the girls easy to hit there?"
"Well, I was hanging out with this Me the whole time....but there are a lot of prostitutes just in the bar. You'll be fine. Now, Brillstein, you need to go to Angor Watt in Cambodia, it is the most beautiful thing to see in SE Asia. It is a series of ancient temples. Incredible.""How were the whores?"
"I don't really know...I brought Me with me.""So I should
bring a whore with me, is that what you are saying?"
As you can see, this young man is very focussed. After his trip he debriefed me on Vietnam. "Yeah, I met this girl in Saigon, and like you, I bought her a ticket to go to Cambodia with me. The only problem was she never came and returned the ticket for money. She was a total bitch."
Now fast forward a year to this month. Brillstein contacts me again, he is going back to Vietnam. I tell him I met this very sexy girl named Tha, I could hook him up with her, maybe she had a friend.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_11_27_rjsimpson_archive.html This is the story of Tha, under The Thin Line.
I email Tha, introducing Brillstein. Brillstein calls me in 2 minutes, "Rutt, you are not going to believe it. That is the girl who fucked me over last year!"
What
a small world!
Still Sketchy
Do you remember Oksana....
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/06/boyfriend-prostitute-or-stripper.html ? The sketchy Ukrainian....does she have a boyfriend? Is she a stripper or a call girl?
Well, I have been doing a little more research....we headed out this past Friday. She still is not drinking, so it is really challenging my social skills. Behind us at the restaurant was a bachelorette party.
"Oksana, how many bachelorette parties have you been to?""Zero, just bacheleor parties. I know a lot of stippers."
"That's cool," I nonchantly replied.Later, we were hanging at my place.
"Wow, that is a cool tatoo, I pointed to her back.""Ya, I got it, when I was thirteen."
"Really.""And I had a heart, right on my tit, but I lasered it off."
"Wow. and you got them when you were 13? Don't you have to be 18 to get a tatoo?""Ya, but one of my friends in 8th grade did it with a needle." Now, I am not sure, what you were doing when you were 13, but I know my friends were not inking prison tats, with a pen casing on my back. I was doing crazy things like, sneaking into the family room, to watch Dukes of Hazard after my parents fell asleep.
"Ya, I was hangin with a bad crowd, when I was younga. You know, when I was 17 I got a belly button ring, then I got a nipple ring, and then another nipple ring, then a tongue ring." I felt my pulse sprinting, but showed a placid face. I then steered the conversation to strippers.
"What is your favorite strip bar, anyway?""Its a secret," she smiled.
"Ah, come on," I pleaded."It is on the south side. I'm the only white girl there. Sometimes I go a little wild there. The other week, I went there with a mini shirt up to here." She pointed to the very bottom of her ass. "You would like it a lot," she winked. My pulse quicked again.
"That's cool." I am dying here.
"Then, Miss Yummy, my girl, she is kinda thick and sexy, simply grabbed me like a little doll, and pulled me onto the stage. Before I knew it, my legs were wrapped around her....and you know the rest..." she smiled again and trailed off.
Sketchy, sketchy, sketchy.
God, I want her.
Sunday Morning
This past Sunday morning I woke up with a pretty hot girl in my condo. You would think with my bad string of luck this would have been a good thing. Well, why did I spend the early hours of Sunday morning impregnating 2 kleenexes pretending they were the girl in my condo. The fact of the matter, the girl, Reena, was sleeping in my guest room, wearing one of my t-shirts.
This is simply a sad tail of woe, again. My friend, Nancy, for the past year has wanted me to meet her younger sister. Is Nancy crazy? Why would whe throw her sister to the wolves? The sister and I spoke a sporadic dozen times on the phone, but she lived in Washington, and well, I'm just plain lazy.
Reena, last weekend finally came to Chicago for a visit. Nancy, her husband, Reena, and I met for dinner and drinks on Saturday. I was more than happy with Reena's appearance. Nice body, long dark brown hair, a belly button ring, and a sexy little voice that made me cream in my shorts. Now it looked like I was big man on campus. I scored the hard to get table, the manager I know, comped some of our drinks, and to boot, we were able to cut the lines at Y Bar and Sound Bar with no cover. Damn, I'd fuck me!
Nancy and her husband eventually darted home, and Reena and I were left alone at Sound Bar. The night grew late, in my druken state, I convinced a sober Reena to come back to my abode. We cuddled up on the couch watching the Office, as I periodically passed out, mixed in with oh-so-subtle grabs of her but.
"Rutt, can I have a T-shirt," she asked as we decided to go to bed. I handed over her a clean shirt. I bent over and started making out with her. Her tongue darted into my mouth. She pushed away, took of her shirt and bra in millaseconds, and slipped on the T-shirt. It was so fast, I didn't even get to see her gams.
We now lay in the guest bed, I reached over to make out with her. "What is the point?"
"Huh?" I pleaded."What is the point? You live in Chicago, I live in Seattle. This isn't going to work out. We can't have sex. You can stay here in the bed with me, but no sex."
I morosely gathered myself and shuffled to my bed, with two kleenexes.
CPI
I am officially ancient. I went bowling on Friday night, and I am very stiff today. I am having difficulty navigating around my place.
Here is an old article I came across from the WSJ.....it dovetails quite nicely with a recent experience.
The New CPI Pundits scrutinize it, Greenspan interperts it, Robert Rubin probes it. Yes, I am talking about the new tea leaves of the 21st century. "As the CPI goes, so goes the economy," states Warren Buffet unequivically. Now please realize I am not refering to the consumer price index, which is widely seen as a barometer for the overhaul health of the economy. I am refering to the Cost Per Intercourse. This index is quickly gaining ascendincy as the new new benchmark for the direction of the economy. The theory is quite simple. The amount of money a man spends for one session of intercourse with his partner drives the economy. The more money the man spends is in direct correllation with inflationary pressures. To keep inflationary forces low and the dollar strong, women should simply be putting out for a cursory back rub and must-see-TV. Excessive spending on dinner, presents, gas, entertainment, etc, increases infaltionary costs. "I couldn't get laid with a Black Card in the late 70s under Carter," laments Greenspan on his dating efforts when inflation topped 10% a year.
The math is straight forward, divide the amount of money you spend by the number of times you get laid. If that number is close to 0, you are happy and the economy is pointed in the right direction. Adam Smith a believer in the invisible hand, stated quit eqloquently at the turn of the 18th century, "the more whorish a strumpet, the better for thy GNP."
Now the goal for anyone using CPI as a benchmark is a denominator of 0. That is the number of times you get laid divided by the amount of money you have spent on the girl. Typically the denominator is higher in the beginning before you have sex, and then should graph down after you copulate for the first time. By the third time you have sex with the girl, you should be focussed on stayting in, watching TiVo, and having her make you dinner. Hence, the denominator is 0. At this point, you should only be seeing her on Monday or Tuesday evenings as you phase in the new girl.
Now, I would also like to introduce the term "the voucher". The voucher is employed when you fly in a girl for the weekend. Its orginal meaning is derived from you earning enough points on an airline to exchange for a free ticket voucher, and then use that ticket to fly in said girl. It has now morphed into simply providing a girl a ticket to meet you. It could be a cash outlay or points. In general, I have had strong success with the voucher, besides a traumatic failure with a voucher to Mumbai, India this past year. The girl never got on the flight. My driver Sanjay had a a pretty good laugh at the airport, when my date never got off the plane.
Now you might remember Katy, http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006_02_05_rjsimpson_archive.html . I recently contacted her. I had a business trip to LA, and she lives in Vegas. I could stratgically use a voucher here. The ticket was $200 and a taxi is $25. She would stay with me in the hotel with me for two nights, and everything else would be free except for the airline ticket. I quickly worked out the math.
I could have sex with her twice the night she arrived, once in the morning, twice more the second night, and then finally one send-off-lay the second morning. That worked out to $37.50 an intercourse. Pretty thrifty.
Now all good intentions do not have perfect outcomes. Katy strolled into the hotel room. Visions of her spread eagle on the bed quickly flashed in front of my eyes. Her dancer like body darted around the room. She cleaned up and we headed out to dinner. A coupl e of hours later we were curled up in bed. When I say curled, she was curled in a fetal position, back to me. I started to get nervous.
"Rutt, please rub my stomache, I don't feel good." I forced a smile and rubbed her tummy. My boner periodically knocked up against her. She qucikly fell asleep, and I quietly rubbed one out in the bed in frustration.
The alarm screeched. I rolled over and saw Katy wearing a tight tank top, and boy shorts. I quickly rolled over, on her. She started whining about being woken up on vacation so early. She was going to put out. I went to the bathroom to get ready to go to work, and yes, rub one more out. I was starting to get depressed, and I was quickly recalculating my CPI, with only one night left.
I came back the hotel that evening...Katy was under the covers. Again, I attempted to start the fire. The fire was quickly snuffed out.
"Ok, Katy, what is a matter?" The two times I had seen her before she threw her cat at me with abandon. I was quite confused with her prudish Victorian ways.
She went into a lengthy explanation of how she was in a strange place emotionally, and she could not have sex with me anymore unless we were in a serious relationship. I attempted to win over, but was met with silence. I sulked off to the bathroom, to jerk off again.
The voucher.....has failed me.
The Boyfriend, Prostitute, or the Stripper
Or maybe all of the above......
I met Oksana online. She was Ukrainian and moved here in her early teens. She is 24, long blonde hair and a top notch body. At least that's what the photos looked like. Well, let's say my expectations were more than met in person. She was someone I could easily chub up for.
I was a bit confused during our conversation, and I was we spoke I double checked her photos online. I could have sworn I was talking to a sista on the south side of Chicago, or this was the craziest east European accent I ever heard. Of course, this did not dissuade me.
We met a couple of days later on a Saturday night.
"I only can meet ya between 8:30 and 10:30, I have a meetin before and I need to meet someone after." She stated on the phone. I quickly agreed, but my sketchy-sense tingled.
We met at the bar on the dot, and she was dressed in a hot business suit.
"You like very nice,"I complimented her."Thank ya, I just left a meetin."
"How was it? I imagine it was very successful," I buttered her up. "Don't be axin so many questions," she smiled coyly. I dropped the subject.
I plowed down several drinks, and much to my dismay, she drank a diet coke. She left promptly, at 10:30 to meet her "friend". I quickly calculated the equation....boyfriend, very possible, call girl, maybe? There was somthing very evasive about her.
We shared a conversation a couple of days later. She shared with me her guy friend from was coming to Chicago for his bacheleor party, and Oksana and some of her friends were invited to show up. "Yeah, there are going to be strippers there," she mentioned nonchantly. "That is cool, I have been to a strip bar before," she continued.
Later that week....
"Are you excited to see your friend this weekend for the bacheleor party?""Yeah, I'm excited to see my friends."
"That's cool, I am sure he is looking forward to the weekend.""No, I meant the strippers."
"Huh? ""How do you think he got the strippers to show up at his party?"
"How do you know them?""I told ya, I have been to a strip bar before."
"And you made friends with a bunch of them and got their number?""Stop axin so many questions?" she smiled once again. I again crunched the numbers in my super-computer brain, output: stripper?
We met a couple of more times.....always at weird times, at the last moment, and with her phone constantly chirping. She explained to me that besides her normal 9-5 job, she was a persoanl trainer. And her clients would call her at the last minute to set up appointments. I am still trying to figure this one out.
-----------------------------------------
On a side note. I have the good fortune to actually know two Oksanas. The other Oksana, I nailed last September. She was by far the most irritating girl I have ever hooked up, she just would never shut up. We quickly parted ways when I left the country for a couple of months.
This past Friday, I called my new Oksana to check in....
"Privet!""Who's this?"
"It's me!""Ruttiger?"
"What did you erase my number after 2 days," I joked."Where are you?"
"What do you mean, you know where I am." "Are you back in America?" The color drained from my face. I quickly looked down at the phone. I had called the wrong Oksana. In error, I called the irritating Oksana from September.
I recovered the best I could, and attempted to make it sound like I calledher on purpose. Funny, after 7 months, she wasn't bugging me that much. In fact, she was a pretty good lay.
Crimes Against Humanity
I appreciate all the efforts that the World Court applied in bringing Slobodon Milosovic to justice. But let's get realistic. Please, someone send in NATO and get this woman off the streets and securely placed in confinement at The Hague. The benefits absolutely no one. These are some of the sights that you can find in Venice Beach, CA.
I also spent some time in 4Play Saturday night. After a quick 8 hours of power drinking, I ended up at this strip bar allegedly frequented by George Clooney at around 2 in the morning. I left close to 5 in the morning. My expereicne can be best summed up with a phone call I received Sunday afternoon while eating some pizza.
A strange number flashed on my cell phone......
"Hello.""May I speak to Rutt Simpson."
"Speaking.""This is Dave from the Citibank Fraud Department. We noticed some suspicious transactions this morning. Did you take out a $400 withdrawal, followed by a $400 withdrawal, followed by exceed limit-denied, followed by a $100 withdrawal?"
"Yes, that was me, spent a little too much money last night.""Well, have fun, Mr. Simpson."
I'll be honest this girl, stripper, was different. Her name was Holly, she told me her whole life story which was incredible. Most of it I forget since I was blacked out. But she was different. Half Persian, half Irish, and a body, that I had to jerk off to three times Sunday morning. End result for all this money: it included spooning in the VVIP section, making out, and a number that actually works. I haven't called her yet because I am devising a master plan to get her to Chicago for the weekend. She is truly different.
Why Reinvent the Wheel?
I was speaking to my buddy Ralph W. on the left coast. We were reminiscing about my academic career at college. Ralph, myself, and two other buddies took Human Sexuality. This is where I first learned about acrotomophilia. Look it up, I think you will be interested in it. Well in this class, Human Sexuality, we were required to write some sort of term paper. My contribution to the paper was typing it on the computer. The other three guys wrote it. We did the paper on prostitution, and in fact drove around the Combat Zone of Boston, looking for prostitutes, so we could interview a couple of them. We were eventually pulled over by the cops after we circled the block 20 times trying to find these women of the evening. After, I typed the paper, I decided I could kill two birds with one stone. At the time, I was also enrolled in Crime in America. A couple of cosmetic changes, and I handed in the same paper for two classes, which I never wrote. Pretty nifty, huh?
This brings me to a current experiment that Van and I are conducting. It is the
Male for Woman section on Craig’s List. If you have read this shit you know it is some of the most compelling bizarre stuff out there. You can read those postings for hours. In fact, take the day of from office! But does it work?
I tried composing my own posting, but realized I really did not want to put any energy into this. And then I realized, why reinvent the wheel. It is all about outsourcing these days, anyhow. So I started browsing the postings in other cities around the world. I started looking for interesting, intriguing adds that other guys had labored on for hours or even days. I would then copy, paste, and change the city, and then voila! Watch the emails pour in.
My plan was to post some adds, go out with some of the girls, nail them, and then email the hapless loser in San Fran who spent an 3 hours composing his posting, that I just got laid on his efforts. Well, sadly, the experiment has not yet been successful. But I have saved some of the better posting with some funny responses.
ADD #1Look at this loser’s add……..I have know I idea what he is even talking about.....
LEAF LIGHTING AND WINE DRINKING AND SO ON AND SO ON (N Chicago)
And so on, Thus do I place this particularly peculiar post For I seek a knowing partaker of sweet and sticky smoke I've never done that which now I wish to do And so I hope to do this thus tonight with you Yes of course there's more For red and grape I'll pour And talk between the two All of these things we'll do What say ye kind femme to all that I detail Would you be willing now to of yourself avail? If so please here below find the me you may soon know: Sane, single, well read, spoke, traveled, brought up. and you? Cute, 25-35, genuinely of the distaffian persuasion Interest piqued, fingers itchy to type? please to respond at your earliest convenience. picture for thy picture.............
Here is a response from some girl…….
Well well, not only do we have a poem, and a lack of the off-putting bad spelling, grammar and typos, but you had me looking up "distaff" in a dictionary. This might be a vocabulary-building experience, in addition to wine and whatnot.
I have to warn you that I'm a little older than your upper limit. And I'm not so sure of what I'm looking for. I live with my boyfriend in Chicago, but have recently moved here and don't know many people. Would like to try to hang as friends, see what develops. I like the usual sort of cultural things, books, film, Art Institute. Appreciate good food (which in Chicago can mean a favorite hot dog stand), good conversation. I'm 5'5" about 130 pounds, scrupulously honest it seems, well traveled, basically a well grounded person who'd like to alter my routine a bit. You sound like you may be fairly adventurous. Tell me more. Here's a pic.
This sounds promising, living with her boyfriend, and wants to be friends! Yipee! Why the photo, though?
Add #2
The girls loved this add, I got 5 emails on this one……
I'll either be a GREAT CATCH or a GREAT FUCK
it's OK to talk like that when you're as smart and adorable as we are.
There're two truths about me: I can be a bad boy, but I'm a good man. I'm a manly yet warm and gentle, funny, affectionate, a very good kisser, and an excellent cook. If you're a beautiful, strong-minded yet warm, highly intelligent woman who's both sweet and occasionally a little naughty, we might be be on the verge of something beautiful. Or, as true connections are rare even with all the ingredients, we're not meant to be, we can still have a fun, safe, passionate evening or two (as, no matter what, I'm always sensitive and fun) and perhaps even a great friendship.
So, would you like to try a night of unbridled flirtation, passion and possibilities?
Time for an upgrade (Gold Coast)Yeah... it seemed like a good idea when you guys first started hooking up. Now the strongest thing holding you in the relationship is that it's become habit. Sex is routine, not passionate. Instead of talking about your dreams, goals, and ideas, you talk bitch about your boss. You're secretly jealous of your girlfriends who have exciting new boyfriends.
Admit it. You settled.
If you want to actually FEEL something with the guy you're with, talk to me. I'll keep you on your toes, and will leave you thinking of me whenever we're not together. I'm caring and passionate by nature but have a very low tolerance for bullshit. I never lie.
I'm somewhere between average and great looking. I always smile and dress like a rock star, well more of a Wall St. professional, but you get the point. One weekend I'll stay at home working, the next I'll fly to Vegas on a moment's notice. My life is so insanely interesting that a bestselling book was written about it last year.
I'm not interested in people who do drugs or get drunk regularly. I am interested in girls who are sweet, loving, adventurous, and know that they deserve someone incredible.
If you reply back, be prepared to talk on the phone within an e-mail or two. I think e-mail is horribly unexpressive and I don't really like chatting over it. Extra points if you send a picture in your first e-mail (I will call exactly once. No more). Reply and tell me what makes you so great. A respone from one of the girls.....
As I am sure you got many replies - both applauding your banter and chastising it - I find myself unsure about my exact motives for responding. I found some of your statements to be awfully presumptuous and full of broad strokes. Obviously, it is important to be self-assured, but it' s very difficult to make statements blanketed in generalities ring true. A best selling novel, eh? Hope you signed a solid contract - or at least get some of the profits. What's the reasoning behind your calling game? If you like a girl, you call. If you don't, you won't. Why the game? And if you are so full of intrigue and delightfulness - why are you posting on CL? What are you looking for that you haven't found?
Add #3Check out this sickie that wrote this add. This one is still a work in progress. I just got the photo and it looks promising……
Title: (men seeking women) Do you have issues with your Father that others never understood? I'm looking for a young white/asian/hispanic girl who would like spend time with a man who understands your father issues - some may even call it a Daddy Complex. Well, I am very open to having you pretend to be my daughter. And I will make sure my daughter has plenty of Spending Money!!! $$$$$$$$$
While you're at my house, I want you to try on some new panties that I bought for you. You're growing so fast and I want to make sure the things I'm buying for you will fit. If your mother were around, she would do this, but since it's just the two of us, the responsibility is mine.
You can change in the other room if you like, but I want you to come in here afterwards and lift up your nightgown so I can see. I'll have to feel your little bottom to make sure the fabric is nice and smooth. We don't want any wrinkles or lines to show through, so hold still while I cup each of your cheeks to see how they fit.
Now I'll just run my finger around the waistband to make sure they aren't too tight. I'll need to do the leg openings, too, just to make sure they aren't cutting into your legs or anything. I know it tickles, but you need to be still or my fingers will slip and accidentally glance your nether region. After I make sure things are just right, I want you to sit on my lap and give me a little kiss to thank me for the new things...Here is the email chatter from N.
To: Rutt N wrote: little girl in search of her daddy,
From: RuttTo: NSubject: Re: I have aleays wanted to be Daddy's girl...........talk to me little girl, what are your needs?
N wrote:Pumpkin is a single mom and needs to be taken care of from time to time.
From: RuttTo: NSubject: Re: I have aleays wanted to be Daddy's girl...........Pumpkin....sorry for the delay, tell me more, i am curious....
N wrote: It would be nice if my Sweet Daddy can help his lil pumpkin take care ofsome bills.
To N Subject: Re: I have aleays wanted to be Daddy's girl........... does my little girl have a couple of photos she can email to me?????? How about it, sweet pumpkin?
She recently responded with her photo.......
Add #4
How great is the add? This one was a crowd favorite….got about 8 girls volunteering for this job. The best thing is some guy from Mumbai, India wrote this one. Hats off for the great work!
Please be my obnoxious girlfriend for one week .. (Chicago)
Reply to: your anonymous craigslist address will appear hereDate: 2006-04-29, 12:55PM CDTNowadays I find myself stuck horribly in situations where mostly everyone I know is either in one of those relationships or is happily hitched or is finally married. I was pleased and really contented to be single for the last year but now that I have been exposed to all these happy-happy people in relationships, I'm starting to wonder really big time if I need one too. In my head, I know I don't (actually I'm not sure …..hehe), but let's make this solid with an experience. This is where you figure in. I need you around for one week in the role of an awful, dreadful, terrible girlfriend to renew my so-called glee in being single. Sweetie… my requirements of you: * -You are decently attractive…which means u can simply be the ordinary girl that we usually c around town. Sorry, but if this is to work out for me, you have to be a decently pretty girl who is nice to look at but a total b**** otherwise. * -Be extremely needy and fully deprived of any attention. Pls ring me twenty seven times a day, always checking where the hell I am, checking out who the hell I'm with, checking out what the hell am I doing etc. * -Have poor or for that matter zilch manners. When we decide to go out together, I want you to not use your tissue, tip damn poorly or not at all, etcetera etcetera * -Stare at other guys when we're out together. Bonus points for flirting with them. * -Don't listen one bit when I talk, and interrupt me nearly everytime * -Wear hideously ugly n flashy clothes, * -Have totally absurd and wildly inaccurate info n data n unfounded opinions. It is your mission that you are right about freakin everything u say n do. * -Flick or rob something of mine. I will set out one predefined thing or article that you must steal from my place under any circumstances. * -Don't be too bothered or upset when I end things after nearly a week (and part of this deal is that I (ME, MOI …..if u get what I mean) am the only one designated to break things off). You assume and also know for sure what you're getting into and do not form any love or awkward bond. After the bad week is gone … we can either be pals and laugh hilariously about this, or we can pretend that we've never really met and ignore each other big time if we happen to meet in a public place. So then …. now u can ask me : What do you get out of this silly thingy? At least 5 nights out (A stolen item (of my choosing). A good anecdote to tell people later. Contentment that you are also single. A super-duper chance to utter your malevolence. A dissatisfying rendezvous for both of us. You'd be a total and absolute fool to pass up this grand opportunity! PS: I'm a nice guy ... if i like u ... i might just keep u ;) Take ur chance , u neva know ..... nothing ventured - nothing gained !
From a 21 college girl in the suburbs.....
hey baby....
i'm not sure why you haven't replied to me yet.....you KNEW i'd be online. don't you want to talk to me? i know you said you made plans with friends and everything....but i really want to go out tonight, instead. how does aladdin's sound? remember that cute waiter last week? i'll wear a hot dress for ya...maybe we'll get a discount ;)I went out with this girl, who was definitely worth nailing, but she did not drink at all. So it went absolutely now where. And she wasn’t even obnoxious to boot.
Add #5My Perfect Asian Flower (Near North)
Reply to: your anonymous craigslist address will appear hereDate: 2006-04-17, 10:40PM CDTYour hair is long, silky, shiny, mind-numbingly beautiful hair, you have a strong work ethic and often succeed. you understand the value of money and how it can affect ones life. You have peace and calm within and fire burning out of control. You are passive, aggressive, strong, delicate and hard as steel. You pocess an edge / strength that comes from having nothing and sophistication that comes from having everything. You are beautiful. These are some of the many qualities that attracts me to an Asian princess, you can be originally or your family is from Asia. And me. I am hard working and successful. I am one that is disease free and doesnt do drugs either. One that is educated, can hold a conversation will respect you but will leave you with a smile for a week or more. So why dont we email, find out more about each other and hopefully meet for some fun. I guess some girls were offended.....
To Rutt:
you're a gross perv. i rep all asian and think you're a creep
To: girl
From: Rutt
I look forward to getting your photo….
Well, nothing ventured, nothing learned.................
The Couch, the Irish Man, and the Dancing Chicken
This is not a recent story, but more of a classic. In fact, it took place several years ago two nights before New Year's Eve on a cold December in Chicago.
Van, Grimey and I headed north to Justin's on a Sunday night. We spent are time throwing back drinks and befriending the locals in the only way we know how. We had rap with a couple of sets of girls but nothing promising. Grimey bagged out, and I attempted since I did have to put in some effort at work on Monday, but Van would not hear any of it. I soldriered on, you know Van was visiting, and I felt guilty if I had left him.
The bar closed, and Van and slithered out at 1 am to head towards our next watering hole. As we slipped out the door we ran into Kara and Beth, two girls we had been talking to earlier. These were nice white trash girls from the west side of Michigan, visiting the big city for New Years.
We all jumped into the back of the cab and made our way to BlackJacks. Kara, the blonde, was next to me. And for some reason we decided to make out on our way the bar. I silently thanked Van for making me stay out. We arrived at the bar, shouldered up to the bar, and started to pollute oursleves with lemon drops. Kara excused herself, she saw a guy at BlackJacks that had been at Justins earlier. Great, competition. Not my favorite thing. I really like winning by default. She came back, we did more shots, and then a half an hour later she was back talking to the other guy. I looked at Van who was making great progress with Beth some sort of Asian mutt. I said a terse goodbye, and headed home in a drunken stupor.
I woke up in pitch darkness. There was a girl sitting in my bed, rubbing my chest. I was drunk, blind and utterly confused. Didn't I come home alone? Who was this? I quickly tried to crunch all these factors into my mental abacus. It was Kara. I wasn't sure how she got here, but I wasn't complaining. I slid her under the covers, cupped her butt and we started kissing.
The door to my bedroom whipped open, and in the silhoutte of the light stood Van and Beth.
"Where is the remote control?" screeched Beth.
"Get out of here, it is 3 in the morning," I bellowed."Ok, Kara, Seamus wants to talk to you." Beth spoke. The door shut.
"Ah, who is Seamus?" I inquired.
"That is my friend from the bar," she responded nonchantly. "I will be back in 15 minutes"
She crawled out of bed and headed into the other room. I faded to sleep listening to Van, Beth, Kara, and Seamus laughing and drinking my beer. I was too tired to be angry.
The alarm chimed the next morning. I struggled to make myself somehwhat presentable for work. I flung my door open, and stared in shock. There entwined on my fukcing couch was a naked Seamus and Kara. Steam rose from my head. I stormed out of my condo and headed to work, where I promptly left a scathing message to Van for mabe being the worst wingman ever. It was quite a coup to bring home Kara for me, but I really could have done with out Van bringing home Seamus who jismed on Kara on my fucking couch. That is where I watch my fucking TiVo!
Van called later to explain how he "hooked me up". I quickly dispelled that notion, and explained to him again what a horrible wingman he was. He would not apologize. I hung up in utter disgust.
I made a quick executive decison, I could never sit on that fucking couch again. I logged onto ebay and posted my couch for sale.
The receptionist called me several hours later at work. You have a guest here who I am sending up. Ten minutes later I sat behind my desk staring at a giant pink chicken. A singing fuckin telegram. This should help me get a promotion I thought as several coworkers gathered around in shock.
The chicken started dancing and singing in my cramped office.
"Van is so sorry,
That he brought home
that Irish man,
who soiled your couch,
and ruined your night......."
The chicken was as confused as my coworkers at these seemingly bizarre lyrics. I tried to play it off as nothing strange.
Van still hasn't apolgized, but I do have a great new sectional now.
Boot-ay Call
It was a typical Wednesday night, I just got finished watching a new L&O on TiVo when the phone rang. It was the girl from Pretty in Pink-
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2006/02/pretty-in-pink.html .
"Hey, Rutt, I just checked into the Four Seasons. My boyfriend and I just had a big fight. I think it might be the end."
"I'm sorry to hear that, do you need some company?" I diplomatically asked."I guess, but Rutt, seriously, no sex."
A little past eleven, I showered (just in case) and found some clothes and sped over in a taxi. I arrived a bit before midnight. We conversed on a range of subject for close to an hour, and I was getting very concerned that she really didn't want to have sex with me. There were no IOIs(Indicators of Interest). I sat on a chair, she was surrounded by a desk.
Finally, I threw in the towel.
"I guess I am going to head off. I got to go to work," I shrugged. I went over to give her a hug and kiss, innocent kiss.
"You are going to have to try harder than that," she mocked, as I pulled away. I took that as an IOI!
I grabbed her, and we dove on the bed. Her top came off, put her jeans stubbornly remained. Again she repeated her mantra "no sex". Fine, I took all my clothes off, down to my boxers. Now, I was simply intent on rubbing one out on her stomache.
As I rubbed on her, my manhood kept on getting scraped up on her jeans and giant cowboy belt buckle. I pleaded for her to slide them off so I would not have to go on the injured reserve. They finally came off, I put on my game face, and focussed on my end goal. As I speeded up my rocking, she stopped me.
"OK, we can have sex." We quickly went to work.
After a bit of pillow talk, I decided to set my alarm on my cell phone.
"Rutt, what are you doing?"
"Just setting my alarm.""Maybe, you should go home now."
I clothed myself, and headed to the door. I said my goodbyes.
"Oh, and Rutt, don't call me, I'll call you.
Someone is feeling the love.
The 22 months of 2005
Sometimes it is a great idea to reflect on the past. This lazy Saturday was a great time to remember the wonderful women that touched my life last year. Donna: What a way to ring in the new year…..short, sweet and vigorous. You were in Chicago for the New Years with all of JAPy friends. Good luck in medical school. Thanks for letting all my calls go to straight to voicemail.
Katya: Cute as a button, made great stuffed peppers, very willing in the sack, but it just wasn’t there for the long term. Oh, yeah, thanks for flying in from Slovakia to see me. I hope you liked the pizza I bought you. It was deep dish.
Jill: Thank God you liked Sangria, it was a great way to get you in the sack. Sorry that your bush was so stanky.
Steph: We dated once before, and it didn’t work that time. What was I thinking this time? I know, some of the best blowjobs north of the equator, and 9% body fat.
Paula: We flirted for half a year before you finally gave it up. It was a fun couple of nights. I loved sucking on your giant cans.
Tanya: You made me want to visit Taiwan. Your sweet supple body, but I could have gone without looking at your face. I guess that is what pillows are for. But you were a fun lay even though you wouldn’t have sex with me in the morning. And you never returned any of my dozen calls. Was that a hint?
Carlita: Wow, this was a great ride. I thought I was going to get a goose egg in NYC, but I pulled a rabbit from my hat at 2 am on the stair case. You were my first cougar. 45 years old, and a great rack. And I didn’t even have to worry about pulling out, thank you menopause! I can’t wait to see you next year.
Yvonne: I didn’t know I could love again. A great three months! Thanks, for the hot break up sex. It made me miss you even more.
Anna: We did the nasty once before 2 summers ago. It was great reconnecting in Moscow. Don’t forget to email, and say hi to your boyfriend for me. Thanks for not biting and scratching my neck and chest this time.
Svetlana: I didn’t think you were going to give it up. I was in Moscow for only 2 days. But patience is a virtue. That was a lovely Monday afternoon. And tell you Dad thanks for driving me to the airport after.
Monique: As soon as I saw your but, I wanted to nail you. You had a great attitude. And thanks for the one night of friends with benefits. Can we do it again?
Carmela: It took me 15 years to nail a stripper. But damn, it was so worth it. I never thought I would want to go to Houston in the summer, but I never cared about the humidity when I was hanging with you. Please come to visit me.
Wendy: You were the fucking-so-hot girl in high school that everyone wanted to nail but couldn’t it. Well, I finally got you, but I had to wait until after you broke 30. Thanks anyhow. Sorry for cumin in you. I was really drunk.
Tanya: A horny little 25 year old, with big boobs, back tat, and a belly button ring. Too bad you had no idea what my name was the next morning. Oh, yeah, sorry for being such a bad lay.
Marina: I never met anyone so fuckin irritating. I literally wanted to strangle you as you droned on for hours and hours about absolutely nothing. But on the other hand you had an incredible ass and great jugs. And you tried so hard in bed.
Janet: I thought I was in love again. We had that two week honeymoon that could not have been any better except for your three emotional breakdowns. I hope you enjoyed your free trip to the Vineyard and the Bahamas. You bitch!
Karen: I don’t even deserve to sleep with a girl like you. Sweet, tall, thin, and 24. I love Vegas.
Martha: We never really connected that much. I think it was just a matter of convenience for the two of us.
Da: You were kind of chubby, but I was so damn horny. In fact, just plain desperate. Thanks for the great head. You had a great smile.
Noi: You were such a giver, and really asked for absolutely nothing in turn. It was a great couple of days. And I liked your commitment to hygiene.
Tha: You were model beautiful, but you were basically a whore. You did rock in bed. Wear that new dress I bought you in good health.
Lee (My Mosquito): It was a good way to end the year. You didn’t want to go to dinner, or even really hang out. In fact, I don’t even think you liked sleeping with me. You just laid there. Actually, did you even like me?
Editor’s note: Most of these names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Prodi 1, Rutt 0
Grimey and I headed down to the Blue Agave, solid Mexican food and pretty potent margaritas. We were sitting next at the bar, I was gunning down margaritas at a 2-1 rato compared to Grimey. During the second pitcher, my ear spied a foreign accent two seats down. I peered down and spotted two young fawns. I quickly interrupted their conversation and found out they were two 21 year old Italian chicks studying English for a couple of months in Chicago. Grimey quickly followed over and we played the best friend test with them. Valentina and Marta school grade chums knew each other like the back of their hands. They knew each other's favorite sexual positions to the age they lost their respective virginty. I quickly envisioned myself doing Valentina doggy (her favorite poistion). We collectively picked up the pace of margarita chugging.
Marta and Valentina excused themselves to the bathroom. Grimey and I quickly conspired. We needed to squire the girls out of the bar for a change of environment. As we huddled together, a young black kid next to us, started laughing.
"Hey, your girlfriends, jsut ran out of the bar!"
"What?"Grimey yelled.
"They just took off, and ran out the door," the black kid continued laughing."
"Shut up, you loser, you are sitting here by yourself, drinking, what is your excuse," I attacked him good naturedly. You win some, you lose some, just ask Berlusconi.
Editor's note: Berlusconi and Prodi just faced off in elections for PM in Italy. Prodi won.
An Old Fashioned Take Down
The assist goes to Caprihina. My true friend for blackouts and panty removing. Mica and I met for dinner Friday night. The restaurant was popping, the girls looked great, the music was pulsating. It was summer already, and everyone wanted to go out.
Mica and I were placed at a table. I gave the whole song and dance regarding the Caprinha. Her interest was piqued. I warned her regarding the potency. Our first round was brought out. Then our second. She was truly enjoying the drink. I smiled inside.
I need to disgress for a moment. Last summer I met two girls, Mica and Mindy. Mindy was in short, a crazy demented girl who sat down at my table with my boss and coworker on a Wednesday night at 10 on the evening. She literally walked by, mumbed something, and joined our table, and ordered dinner. She was all over the place, commenting that she was a drug dealer. Nothing like a crazy good looking broad.
"Hey, John (my boss), so do you like to watch porn with your wife," Mindy blurted out.
My straight laced boss responed. "Yeah, I look to boogie board." We all burst out laughing. "What? What? did I say something wrong," John interjected our laughter.
After, my other coworker Mike gave up cock-blocking me, I finally got Mindy back to my place for some junior high style hooking up. Nothing ever progressed with her, but I occassinally would drunk dial her over the months.
Now, I met Mindy, this past summer as well, at 4 am with my buddy Van. She was with her girlfriend saddled up against the bar. Van and I swooped in like hawks with jaeger bombs. Nothing like booze to make friends. We rolled out at closing after spending the early morning with our victims. We never spoke again, well until recently.
Early this year, I started texting Mindy, the crazy broad. Her responses were quite perplexing. After a couple of weeks, I drunk dialed Mindy to follow up on my drunken texting. After a few minutes on the phone, I realized I had confused the 2 girls. I thought I had been texting Mindy, but the whole time I was relly texting Mica. Thank God for booze. During the call, I attempted to cover up my drunken confusion.
Another month passed, and I finally met up with Mica at some random bar. The only challenge was I had no idea what she looked like. A quick cell call, and I figured out which one she was. Nothing happened that night except a severe blackout. And that my friends brings me to Friday night.
We finished dinner, and then decided to have a couple more rounds of drinks in the bar. That is when we began making out. And this eventually resulted in Mica cooming back to my house for a sleepover. Thank you Caprihinas!
There Goes My Pride...Again
I am trying to expand my horizons, that doesn't mean taking a ceramics course at the local community college. That means finding a new way to get laid. I have used on-line dating services before with good success in China (Please see Tail of Two Cities...........
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2004_02_08_rjsimpson_archive.html ) , but have used it sparingly domestically.
I recently have been experimenting with Yahoo! Personals and have met with severe frustration. The frustration is three-fold. First, there is a high density of HB (hot-babe) factor on the website. In other words, keep a box of Kleenex handy. As long as you click on the "slim" attribute you are going to want to nail half the girls. Second, I personally have got a very low response rate. Basically, one out of fifteen. That is a lot of work for a lazy person. I rather get hammered and win my rejections the old fashioned way in the bar. Speaking with some girls on the site and my other friends who have used the service, it is a buyers market. The attractive girls literally get 10, 15, 30 emails a day...... The third reason, I'll get to that later.
Jenny and I shared 2 email exchanges and then she passed on her phone number. She had 4 photos posted and what appeared to be a fantastic body. We spoke on the phone and quickly made plans for Friday night. This was moving at a strong pace and I was liking it. I picked her up and took her to Mas. She actually turned out better than her photos, and I was looking forward to tricking her into sleeping with me. We arrived at Mas, aka, Nuevo Latino, that is code word for tasty drinks like Mojito that gets a girl drunk. Jenny and I quickly ordered two of these concoctions. I looked down in horror five minutes later. My drink was gone, she had barely taken a sip.
"Jenny, how is the drink?""Oh, I'm really not a drinker." I looked back dejected. Now I was going to have to be charming simply on personality. What an effort!!!
Her proclivity for lack of drinking did not slow me down. I plowed through 7 Mojitos and became funnier with every drink. For some reason, she seemed to be buying it. In fact, we moved closer to each other. We hugged several time. My lips were inches from hers.
"Rutt, we can't kiss here in the restaurant!" she whispered-yelled.
"I know, that is not my style at all." I lied.She moved in and we started to make out. That lasted for a while, and then we moved to a bar in Old Town. We huddled up in a corner booth, and continued our lip locking. Later I walked her to her door. I used the bathroom line, the cuddle line, and call the taxi line. She smiled, said no, and said to call her.
I did, 2 calls, 1 email.
Never heard back.Kathleen was into reptiles. She liked traveling to see them. She liked drawing them, and she liked taking photos. Not exactly an interest of mine. But she was a hot South American girl. In fact, she posted a dozen photos to prove her point. I sent an email, it was returned. I sent another, that was returned. Then I sent one more, and did not hear back. (Remember she is probably getting 20 emails a day.) Then a week later, I emailed her..."I got 2 tickets to Zanies (comedy club) on Thursday, do you want to go?" She emailed back affirmative.
I picked her up, and she did look fine. Tall, long black hair (surpise, surpise), and tight jeans. We had a good time at the show, sadly she wasn't drinking. I walked her back to her place. We hugged at her door.
"Rutt, email me tommorow, ok?"
"Sure.""No really, call me."
We hugged, and I walked home.
Friday came, we emailed a dozen times, and even spoke 2 times on the phone. We made plans to hang out Monday night. I called her on Monday, and an email to confirm our plans.
Never heard back. The third reason, no second dates.
Politcal Musings
Since I am holder of a BA in Political Science I have determined that it provides me with the right to dwell on a couple of issues which I find troubling. I know some of my readers will find this troubling that I have deviated from my usual ramblings of sexual escapades and rejections, but fear not, there are plenty of stories to come.....
Are you familiar with Fatwahs?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fatwah Well, if you have ever heard of Bin Laden you might be familiar with the term. In short, it is a pronouncement in Islam, issued by a religious law specialist on a specific issue. You might recall Bin Laden, issued a doozy a while back. His stated that he was declaring war on America to wipe us off the face of the earth.
Do you remember Salman Rushdie. He had the misfortune of writing a book
The Satanic Verses, that many Imans (priests) found insulting to Islam. Many of these wise men issued Fatwahs calling on his assination. More recently, you might recall, that poor sap of a Danish cartoonist, who poked a little fun against Mohammed and Islam. Imans came out of the wood works to call upon his immediate death. Not one holy man, but hundreds across the Middle East.
Why am I commenting on this? Hyprocrosicy. Do you know how many Fatwahs were issued condeming 9/11 by these pious men of the Muslim cloth? 0, none, zip. A crude drawing (some which are pretty funny) of Mohammed will spur the anger and spite of millions across the world, but 4 planes turned into missles inspires zero Fatwahs condeming these terrorists.
http://www.militantislammonitor.org/article/id/1610Iran. If you have read the paper recently, you might be aware that Iran is doggedly pursueing its nuclear ambitions despite being signers of the non-proliferation treaty. Iran is steadfastedly stating their ambitions are for peaceful purposes. Has anyone noted that Iran has the third biggest oil reserves (125 billion barrels, the UU uses about 20 million a day) in the world. Why the fuck do they nedd alternate energy sources??? Iran has unemployment of 25%, a corrupt, deranged theocracy, yet they want to dedicate finite valuable resources to develop a "peaceful" nuclear program. Please.
Finally, I was watching CNN the other day.....and flashing on the screen was Breaking News!!!! Momentarily, I was started what could these big news be?? I held my breath when the talking head interrupted the weather to share with me this breaking news.
"Department Of Homeland Security Official Arrested For Trying To Seduce 14-Year-Old Via Internet Chats..."This "official" was the 4th ranking spokesperson for the department. What the fuck does he have to do with protecting America from terrorists. Absolutely nothing. Why is this fucking news?
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2006/04/05/department-of-homeland-se_n_18517.html?p=9
How to Date a Stripper
Editor's note: I am very pleased to introduce our second guest writer this month, Phoenix. I had the privilege of meeting her two weeks ago at Deja Vu, in Lake Station, IN. I have been to a lot of strip bars over the years, but Phoenix represents the best of the industry. Of course, she is scorching hot, great long blonde hair, and incredible giant boobs. Phoenix is also extremely cool. She sat with Grimey and me for hours, simply shooting the shit. Phoenix will be providing insight and behind the scenes information. In her first advice column, she will be advising all you young studs how to bed one of these wonderful creaturesHi guys! How to date a stripper? Why would you guys want to do that! Strippers are fucking crazy. Of course there is always a few exceptions to the rule, like myself. As Rutt, has told you I am both hot and cool. His friend Grimey had a crush on me after 30 minutes.
I guess it would depend on what kind of dating we are talking about. If you just want to fuck a stripper, then I think all you need to do is spend money on dances, buy her drinks, tell her that she is the best dancer at the club. Make sure you tell her you want to take her to dinner or maybe Vegas. Now this only works for the attractive men. For the unattractive ones I hope you are really rich, and don't be stupid, don’t go for the hottest girl in the club.
For the guy who really would like to have a dating relationship with someone you met in a strip club. Some of the things that got me were to talk to me as if I weren't naked, compliment the parts of my body that you didn't have to pay to see, and buy a few dances( I am still a dancer of course). Just try and make it a normal conversation. Remember when the girl gets up for a quick pole dance, make sure you step to the stage and throw her a couple of bucks. They will show their appreciation for you when they get back to the table.
And you have to remember to keep all of this in context….only about 2% of the strippers you meet will ever get turned on while at work, or even entertain the thought of a guy being anything more than a wallet.
More behind the scenes next time. Please email Rutt with any questions for me……..rutt.simpson@gmail.com
Big East Update
I apologize for my delay in providing an update to my Big East adventure in NYC in early March, but my drinking has really gotten in the way.
The crew met at an Italian restaurant right outside of Time Square Friday night. My buddy O'Hara from college is the owner, so we are treated like champs. We consumed every Miller Lite in the bar and then proceeded down the street to another bar. The next 48 hours I was met with every form of rejection known. In fact, the New York broads even threw out a couple of new ones I was not aware of. But I still had two aces in my sleeve for Sunday.
All my friends had departed, but I had planned on meeting Candy for a late lunch Sunday at a bar around the corner from the Westin. I had met Candy last year through one of my friends and had shared a quick make out, before her friend grabbed her from the clutch of hell(me) and brought her home. During this last year, we had continued a phone relationship. Well, today I was calling to collect.
She showed up in tight jeans and a even tighter sweater. Her two puppies strained in those tight confines. Challanges, I was extremely hung over, exhausted, and she was coming off a severe cold and was also not drinking. I thought to myself how was I going to pull this off, the other challenge was I had another date at 8 PM with Carmela, who I had met last year.
Prior to meeting with Candy, I contacted Van over the phone for a consultation. If somehow, I got things started with Candy, how was I going to extract myself for my second date with
Carmela
(Please see story Big East-A Retrospective). Van and I came up with the lame plan that he would call me at 7:30 feigning a family emergency, where I would have to ask Candy to leave.
After meeting Big Pussy at the bar (there was a big Sopranos party at the bar next door for the first episode), I had asked Candy to walk me back to the hotel. I used the
don't ask, just walk strategy. This simply means, don't ask the girl back to your place, simply grab her hand and keep walking. Candy did not put up much of a struggle. I stripped her shirt off, her jeans were slightly pulled down, but nothing would work. I consoled myself with vigorous crotch rubbing and boob making out(they were really nice). After an hour, I told her I had a prior committment. She put her clothes on, and I got up, but immediately doubled over. I had the biggest case of blue balls. I quickly escorted her out, so I could jerk off to her to ease my ailment.
I fell asleep for an hour, and quickly showered, and waited for my date with Carmela. She was finishing up her performance at Rent. Carmela strolled in an hour late at 9:30 PM in a short skirt, high heels and a stupid raincoat. Last year, I had managed to nail her in 2 hours, and tonight I was simply too exhausted to make much of an effort, plus I had to get up at 5 AM to catch a flight for my training in OH. My hope was to trick Carmela into coming to my room immediatly and skip the bullshit of getting to know her.
Of course, that did not work, wine/dine. We headed off to a very late dinner, followed up with a drink at a lounge next door. Somehow I was able to keep up the witty repartee, in fact, at one point, I had her crying in laughter.
We then headed back to the hotel at midnight, where I told her about my trip to Asia, and the wonderful photos I took there. "
Carmela, would you like to see some of the pictures? I have them in the hotel room?" This ruse actually worked. Upon entrance, I immediatly attempted to kiss her. That didn't work she actually wanted to see the photos! At this point, I was slipping into delirium, and getting very frustrated.
Finally, the photos were finished, and we started kissing. I hiked up her skirt, she was wearing a lace thong and thigh highs. These Argentian broads know how to sex it up. I slid her panties off, skirt above her waist, and I quickly disrobed. I went to pull out, where was I going to cum? I couldn't cum on her stomache, she was still wearing all of her clothes. Quick exectuve decision, I blew my nut on the hotel bed cover. (Now, you know why Dateline and 60 Minutes always do those exposes at hotels with the blue lights). Finally, I get to go to bed at 2 AM, after I got the energy to throw her one more before sleep. (you know, I am not going to see her until next year!)
I woke up three hours later, and caught my delayed flight to OH. I was intent on some heavy sleeping on the plane. Little did I know, I was sitting next to a 400 pound behomoth on the plane. He had the armrest up, and his flesh overflowed into my seat. I did not sleep one wink As you can imagine, I was on fire for training.
Too Hot
Editor's note: I am very pleased to introduce our first guest writer. Regular readers of this blog might recognize my friend Van -- a supplementary character who usually appears in tales of excess drinking or slovenly behavior (see links to our '24' tribute parties, Fingerblasting in Miami, Hide the Tip). But in this column, I'm here to tell you that you don't need alcohol to have a good time -- well, not that much of it. I will now let Van weave his delicious tale......It was a typical early-spring Wednesday night in Boston, and a few buddies of mine decided to embark on one of those senseless adventures that only guys -- and usually only geeky guys -- set about: Hell Night at Cambridge's East Coast Grill. You can read about Hell Night here (
http://www.thecrimson.com/article.aspx?ref=254662) if you want some backstory, but suffice it to say East Coast Grill is world-renowned, for a few days each year, for serving up some of the spiciest foods on the planet to the hot-dish freaks who come from all over the country to try and conquer the restaurant's si
gnature dish, the "Pasta from Hell."
According to owner Chris Schlesinger, in over 15 years, only 40 people have been able to eat an entire serving of this caustic creation -- it just so happens that my buddy, Woodman, is one of them. Hell Night dishes are measured in "bombs" and the Hell Night mennu opens with four- and five-bomb items (instead of the two- and three-bomb jobs you might find on a regular night), and it progresses upward to the Pasta from Hell, which this year weighed in at eight bombs. It is theorized that Woodman himself is responsible for the escalation in heat... Several years ago, the PFH was worthy of only six bombs on the menu, but after Woodman polished off a bowl and taunted the chefs obnoxiously, they've progressively made the dish more flammable.
Reservations to this masochism are notoriously hard to come by -- never underestimate the public's attraction to the most basic amusements -- so we lucked out when we called on Tuesday for a Wednesday seating and East Coast had an unexpected opening.
"Don't be late," the hostess adjurred. "You need to be in at 7:30 so you can be out by 9:30. We're full up, and we'll need to start the next round of seating."
Not wanting to miss our chance, we bailed out of work promptly Wednesday afternoon and arrived in Cambridge at about 7p – with just enough time for a quick Guinness at The Druid, a popular bar next door. We walked into East Coast Grill at 7:20, and the place was the expected mob scene -- with a surprising number of cute girls interspersed with the manly men gagging their way through their tortures of choice. We were not to be seated on time. In fact, it looked like a half-hour wait, so we did what many guys do with idle time. We hit the bar.
We grabbed a quick beer, and Woodman chatted with the bartender while I talked with a girl I knew. When I turned around, I heard Wood ask the barkeep, "So have you got really hot drinks on the menu too, or don’t they let the bartenders handle the manly stuff?"
"Oh yeeeaah," the bartender replied with a suspicious smirk. "This year we've got something for ya."
"Really? Bring it on. What is it?"
"Tequila... that's been aging in a crock pot of Scotch bonnet peppers for over a week."
"Great! We'll take three," said Woodman.
"No problem. I'll even back 'em up with a can of Tecate. You'll need it."
At this point in the story, let it be stated (as Rutt or anyone who knows me will testify), I'm no stranger to weird, potent alcohol -- even in high doses. Half a bottle of absinthe? Yes, please. Repeat shots of Ouzo and/or Grand Marnier? Check. Thirty-or-morre cans of Bud Light on a Saturday afternoon? Hey, if it's July or August, why not? I'm also no stranger to spicy food. I tried the PFH two years prior when Woodman brought a sample dish into the office. I polished off 4 spoonfuls; it was easily the hottest thing I ever had in my mouth, hands down -- and I could see why only a chosen few ever finished a whole bowl -- but it did not appear life threatening.
I was completely unprepared for what happened next.
Woodman, myself, and Man Nancy (our other friend) raise our shot glasses like we've done time and again before, and knocked back this amped-up te-killya.
First: nothing but the foul taste of Jose Quervo, with maybe a hint of some unpleasant pepper aftertaste.
30 seconds: that growing burn in the mouth and throat you typically experience with any hot pepper product.
45 seconds: A four-alarm blaze in the mouth and throat, with some ominous tingling in the stomach... but nothing a true fire eater couldn't handle. I look over to say something to Man Nancy, but he's no longer there -- leaving nothing but a vapor trail toward the front door of the restaurant. Woodman is sporting a combination grimace and smmile, like some naughty boy whose dominatrix has just given him a well-deserved spank with a studded belt.
60 seconds: My mouth and throat are on fire, there's just no disguising it, and I know from previous hot food experiments that there's really nothing I can do about it either. The Tecate chaser is like pissing on a lava field, and all I can do is wait out the burn. I decide to bide my time by resuming the chat with my lady friend at the bar.
90 seconds: I'm "engaged" in conversation with this girl, but no words are coming out. I can tell from her puzzled stare that it's getting awkward fast. The burn I thought I could stoically wait out is still intensifying. It's at a level I can't describe with words. I turn to Woodman. "Yo man, I don't feel so good. I think I'm going to hit the head." I start to make toward the bathroom about 20 feet away…
Every problem drinker knows this feeling: You've been drinking all day, or maybe only a few hours but at an aggressive pace. A “friend” hands you some unnamed mix and orders you to slug it back -- and of course you do so without hesitation. When it hits bottom, you realize there's a 50-50 chance whatever you downed mayy be coming back up. You also realize that whether your gut gives it the pink slip or not is really not up to you at this point. It's simple biochemistry. Either the acid in your stomach will be strong enough to break the concoction down, or you're going to be a walking puke sprinkler. It's beyond your control.
I was still 10 feet from the East Coast Grill bathroom when I reached that point. And I had mixed feelings about it. I realized evicting the hell juice from my system might be a blessing in disguise. At that point I didn't care if the creature from Alien ate its way through my stomach and spit the shit out for me. Even with my history of broken bones, invasive surgery, and watching the Sox win a World Series, I'd never known this type of pain.
And then, somehow -- like an act divine -- I was saved. Everything felt fine, and I was happy again, laughing -- distracted by the paramedics who were attending to some poor asshole that apparently lost his shit in the anteroom in front of the bathroom. Some poor bastard that... hey, wait; why is everyone so tall? Wait a minute, why am I flat on my back? Oh, no. Nooooo. Please no. I was that poor bastard!
"Do you have any idea how long you were out for buddy?" The paramedic was leaning in to talk to me. He was checking my pulse. Another EMT strapped a blood pressure gauge on my arm. Woodman was asking how I was doing. The band-aid guys schlepped me out to the ambulance waiting outside. They got my shirt up to check for hives or a rash -- any signs of an allergic reaction. They took my pulse again and seemed pleased (apparently it had dropped from 130 when theey first found me to 90). They asked a few more questions about my health. They checked my pulse again. Back down to 60 BPM.
"Well, you seem to be getting back to normal. We can turn the lights on and take you to the hospital, where they'll do some more tests, or you can hang out for a minute, see if you're feeling okay, and head home. Whaddaya think?"
I didn't feel the need to add a stint in the ER to the night's list of achievements. "I'll hang out and head home," I replied.
Woodman and Man Nancy greeted me outside the ambulance. "You alright?" they asked. "Whaddaya wanna do?"
I waited for the ambulance and EMTs to pull away.
"I wanna eat some dinner, and maybe a couple of beers," I said. "Knocking yourself unconscious works up a bit of a thirst."
We walked back inside East Coast Grill, stepping over the bodies of two violently vomiting young women on the curb, and I figured Chris Schlesinger or one of the hostesses would politely ask me to leave. On the contrary, they gave me a hero's welcome. The whole restaurant gave me a standing O. The staff gave us three seats at the bar and a round of free drinks. A cute waitress came by and gave me a free tee-shirt, the type usually reserved for the guys who finish a whole bowl of Pasta From Hell. They also gave me one of the best plates of ribs & slaw I've ever eaten.
But with all that giving, it seemed like I was still missing the one thing they took from me. That would be my pride... although I suspect that may have been goneth even before the fall.
Priceless
23 lap dances
1 road trip to Gary, IN
1 medium blizzard
2 double quarter pounder with cheeses
1 large frie
1 diet coke
1 DVD of girl-on-girl porn
................priceless...............
I woke up sick to my stomache over last nights misadventure. I gave myself a hard look in the mirror and I did not like what I saw. Grimey called me and we met for lunch at Bar Louie. I sheeplishy admitted what happened the previous night with the trainy. As he burst out with tears of laughter, he stated that he had to knock the gay out of me. And the only way Grimey knew how to do that was a road trip to IN, the crossroads of America, and some fine strip bars.
At 3 in the afternoon, Grimey and I were speeding down the Skyway in search of my salvation. After getting lost, we entered Deja Vu minutes after they opened. Deja was located in Lake Station, IN. It was dark, as you would imagaine, and there was not a single stripper to be seen. How was this going to help me?
The waitress, Jessica, took our order, and told us the girls would be out momentarily. Phoenix danced to a song and then b-lined it to our table, before she could finish her question if anyone needed a dance, I had quickly volunteered by raising my hand. Phoenix's big boobs rolled over my body, and she did this great thing, rubbing my cock with her head over my pants. This was just what I needed. Six more dances, and I started to feel a bit more manly. Phoenix joined us back at our table. Sadly, she was a married mother of one. Her husband worked in the local firehouse. Grimey was a bit disspointed, since had quikly developed a crush on her.
Minutes later a 23 year old Koi, a double college major, recent divorcee, marched me into the lap dance area. A quick 7 lap dances continued to build my confidence with the opposite sex. As Koi's lips neared mine, I informed her:
"I don't kiss on the first date." "I don't kiss until the third or fourth date," she cooly responded. "But I am quite a nympho after that." I started to get harder.
I walked back to our table, shoulders high. Koi was all business, she was onto the next table. Grimey and I were still hanging with Phoenix, drinking at a quicker pace. I felt testertone rushing to my loins.
Deja Vu started to fill up. New girls entered. I had my eyes on the compact Bobbi. She was covered with three tatoos, and wearing a Rebel panties. I had several dances with her until she was called back to the stage where she performed her well known "iron cross".
Phoenix entertained us with more tales from behind the scene and gave us a tour of the facility, and provided me with a girl-on-girl DVD.
After five hours of drinking, Grimey and I decided to head back to the city to drink more. That was after a quick stop to get blizzard from DQ, followed by a healthy meal at McDoanlds, don't worry I got a medium diet coke.
I went back to the Land of Lincoln a man.
I feel a bit guilty about not providing any recent postings, but I have been in somewhat of a dejected mood. As you might now, I was laid off in September from a very large bank. I used this opportunity to travel overseas for close to three months followed by some quick trips to Miami, Vegas, Puerto Rico, and NYC. Well, of this came to a sudden halt.
I am sad to report, I am now gainfully employed as of March first. What does that mean? Well, in late Febraury I struggled to find pants in my closet that actually fit me for my first day of work. This means taking the bus with the assorted riff raff that rubs up near me. This means getting up at the crack of 7:30 AM. This means very limited vacation. It is difficult to jet off to Serbia for a long weekend.
Another challenge recently is that this site was recently breached by a girl I met on Craigs List. As an experiment, I placed a two add line with no picture in the Man looking for Woman section.
This started a 100 email relationship that culminated in a lunch meeting last week. This young lady has committed to be our first guest writer on RJSIMPSON. This will be an interesting experiment in Through The Looking Glass. I hope to receive her posting soon.
In another note, I came to the most depressing conclusion that I have officially seen every episode on Law & Order, SVU, and Criminal Intent via TiVo. That means 368 hours of the orginal.....154 of SVU, and 101 of Criminal Intent. That should not come as that big os a surpise since I can polisj of 10 episodes in a day. I have officially started recording new shows out of desparation on TiVo including The Shield and The Office.
The Big East – A Retrospective
For years, I have descended like a perverted, inebriated locust on New York City in early March. The excuse is the Big East, a college basketball tournament, but the real reason is to get together with my buddies from college, get loaded and terrorize New Yorkers. All of my buddies who attend, have all given up, they are married, this is the one weekend that they have been able to grandfather in with their wives that allows them to spread their wings and let loose on annual basis.
2005You know the two minute elevator pitch? Well, it worked for me on a cold night last March. My friends and I had finished bottle service at some club in NYC. I had been rejected by most of the girls in the bar, and the group decided to move on. As we ambled up the stairs to the street, I lagged the group.
My dark haired prey was mid way up on the stairs when I swooped in. I wish I could tell you what I said, but my booziness prevents me from recalling. All I know, is at the top of the stairs my friends walked left, while Carmela and I strolled right.
Carmela hails from Argentina and is world class cellist. She has traveled around the world performing, and as of now she is the first chair for Rent. She is also 45, which puts her firmly in cougar territory. (The definition of a cougar is hooking up with someone who is 7 years younger. In this case, I was the cougar’s prey.) Now as twenty something youngster there was a fair amount of glory with hooking up with an older broad. As I entered my thirties, my attention turned to the younger set. So this 40 something was a bit of an experiment.
Carmela brought me into the bowels of another club. It was three in the morning and the place was pulsating to techno. We cuddled up in the corner, and we began to make out. I than took this as a green light to caress her boobs and but.
“Please, Rutt, not here. You can do this to me when we get home.” Instant wood.
“Can we go home now?” I asked.
We proceeded to her car, crossed one of the bridges, and ten minutes later we were in a bedroom community in NJ at her house. Twenty minutes later she came out of her bathroom wearing nothing but thigh highs. It was a great night, and morning.
We woke up and she drove me back in the city. As she was getting ready, I saw a framed magazine cover, it was her. So of course, I took a quick photo.
2004
I actually flew back from Vietnam to catch this weekend. Despite my strong dislike, more like hate, for the French, the group was spending a lot of time at Pastis on 9th Avenue, a pretentious little French bistro
(Please see article Mon Dieu). Highlights include losing three credit cards and two jackets. I ended up buying a replacement jacket for $19.99 at a hip hop store.
Now, Pastis has separate bathrooms joined by a coed sink. As I was washing my hands, I have some sleight OCD, so I really like washing my hands, this highly intoxicated girl started talking to me. Within a minute, our lips were locked in the bathroom.
“Jody, why don’t we go somewhere else and hang out?” I asked, i squared at work. The second i is for isolate.
“OK, let me just tell my girlfriend.” This was way to easy I thought. She snaked into the bar and said goodbye to her girlfriend. I on the other hand, left my hip hop jacket, credit card and friends at the bar. I didn’t want to mess with the tempo.
We slid up to the next bar, and continued our heavy petting.
“Hey, Rutt, do you like Curb Your Enthusiasm?”
“It is my favorite show,” I lied. I had only seen it once.“We can go to my house, and watch it OnDemand.”
We hopped into a cab and sped the 100 blocks north to the upper, upper west. We entered her apartment, and I made a bee line to her bedroom, I was thinking of only suckling her giant mammaries. She entered into the room, slid into bed. After five minutes, I was hit with a cold shower.
“Rutt, you have to go.”
“What!” I protested.
“I’m too drunk, I’m sorry, please, you have to go. Give me your number we will meet for brunch tomorrow.”
My eyes welled with tears as she led me to the door. I begged, pleaded, cajoled, praised, and even whimpered as the door closed behind me.
The next morning, my cell phone rang, “Hey Rutt, its Jodi.”
An hour later, after checking my bag with the doorman at the hotel, I was sitting across from Jodi slurping mimosas. Jodi twirled her long dark hair and entertained me with her Jewish Brooklyn accent. After several hours, we found ourselves in the back of a cab again, speeding up north. She threw her legs over my lap and caressed my cock over my pants.
Larry David chirped in the background on the TV, as Jodi lay naked on her bed. After spending some time with her fun bags, I went south. She gave me the tap.
“Do you have a condom?”
“No,” I responded, “I’m not a sailor.”“Sorry, we can’t have sex.”
Frustrated, I dropped down once again, got the tap again, but this time she slid me in. I finished, and shortly after tried to stick it in again.
“Rutt, you have to get condoms,” she said sternly. Minutes later, I was dashing down the streets of NYC trying to buy condoms from a Korean grocer on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I was back in her apartment, showing off my new purchase. After a break, I suggested an idea…..
(I know for the gentle reader, this might sound a bit preposterous. Maybe you think I even embellished the day a bit, but thankfully, I had my trusty camera, to record these memories.)
“Jodi, I have a great idea,” I feigned genuine excitement for this contrived idea. “Why don’t you put on lingerie, I’ll take pictures of you. We will pretend we are making a calendar, and for each month, you put on a different outfit! How does this sound.”For some reason, this sounded like a good idea to her. I excused myself from her room. She chose an outfit. I came back in, snapped some pictures, and then had sex with her in the ones t
hat really worked. We only got to April. If any girls want to help me finish the other 8 months, send me an email!
2003O'Hara and I had broken away from the group, and were pounding down Kettles. Waves of girls rejected me before I could utter a word. We left, and tried our luck at some nameless bar down the street. I approached a younger Hispanic girl with dark hair.
We all know the challenge of the playing the wingman role. This challenge was made a bit more difficult since the girl’s girlfriend was actually a guy, a flaming gay guy. O'Hara is a bit old school. This was asking quite a but fro him to step up to the plate.
But kudos! O'Hara squared off with the fruit, until he exited the bar with a warning to his girlfriend to be careful with me. I thanked O'Hara for his efforts and he departed shortly after.
The next six hours entailed me jamming my hands down her pants, making out, and pounding beers. We bar hopped, with me repeatedly insisting we hang out at her apartment.
It was now 5 in the morning. I sat at the bar, with the only two remaining guys still drinking. My girl had excused herself to the bathroom. After ten minutes, these random guys started ragging on me. “Where is your girlfriend?” they asked. I hadn’t realized it, but she had probably been gone for 20 minutes.
I walked into the bathroom, my girl was on her cell. She saw me made the shh sign with her index finger over her lips.
“Its my boyfriend,” she whispered. I rolled my eyes, and quickly realized this was going down in the loss column.
I then topped off the evening with 2 quarter pounders with cheese and three quick rejections at the local McDonalds.
Well, the Big East is next weekend. I hope to have some stories to report. This is despite the fact, that my alma matta, is no longer in the Big East. It doesn't matter, I never wanted to go to the game anyhow.
24 Update, Number Three
First, there seems to be some confusion regarding our 24 Marathon over New Years Eve Weekend. Yes, we did have one stripper appear at the event. Yes, she was extremely dissapointing, both in physical quality and overall fun quotient. The girl that showed up, was Bria from the first posting.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_12_18_rjsimpson_archive.htmlShe was flabby and had a hirsute meat curtain. On top of that she sat there like a lump on a log. We have learned from our mistake, and we will strive to improve for next year.
On that note, I have decided to invite Mr. Sutherland to next year's marathon. After reading about some of his recent escapades, I imagined he would be glad to attend.
Please read about some of his recent drinking feats...
http://www.thesuperficial.com/archives/2006/01/26/kiefers_wild_sunday_1.htmlhttp://www.thesuperficial.com/archives/2006/01/04/kiefer_sutherland_drunk_again_1.htmlImpressive to say the least......
The following letter was sent to Mr. Sutherland's representatives. I will update you if I hear back from them. I can only assume that they would not want him to miss out on a great weekend.
Markham & Froggatt /
Pippa Markham Agent
WMA /
John Fogelman Manager
Management 360 /
Suzan Bymel Publicist
Wolf Kasteler Van Iden & Associates /
Evelyn Karamanos Publicist
Wolf Kasteler Van Iden & Associates /
Annete WolfI realize this invitation might come a bit early, but I wanted to make Mr. Sutherland and his friends aware of this upcoming event.. Later this year, my friend, Van, and I will be having our Third Annual Van Houten-Simpson 24 Marathon. Our goal is to watch the entire series over three days. The days are broken up with excessive drinking at several all-you-can-drink black tie events in Chicago.
Last year we raised the bar for the marathon. We expanded our pizza and diet Pepsi regiment from 2004 to customized T-shirts and strippers in 2005. This year, we are planning to expand the entertainment offerings to make the day even more enjoyable.
I will be able to offer Mr. Sutherland complimentary first class tickets from LAX-ORD, free housing in the Van suite, complimentary tickets to two black tie events, and any additional sundries.
You can trace the trials and tribulations as I attempted to organize this past year’s marathon. This experience will serve as a template to build on for future events.
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_12_18_rjsimpson_archive.html
http://rjsimpson.blogspot.com/2005_12_25_rjsimpson_archive.html
I look forward to hearing back from you. Please contact me with any questions.
Warmest regards,
Rutt Simpson
rutt.simpson@gmail.comThis entry is a testament to the power of unemployment and free time.
Things Happen
Karen and I met last night for sangria at Cafe Iberico.
Karen and I had met last summer on a Sunday afternoon after one of Chicago ubiquitous street fairs. Our large group gathered at a couple of outdoor tables. My friend and I raced each other, who could drink the 24 ounce vodka/lemonade faster. I found out the next day, he had been splitting his drink with his girlfriend. A late arrival joined the table, Karen sat down next to me, her double Ds filled her white tank top. I was quickly enamored, and began a combination of flirting and light groping. I quickly and quietly convinced her to leave with me and grab dinner. We excused ourselves from the table.
The group smiled and laughed as we departed.
"Where are you going?" they asked in unison.
"Subway" I responded.We walked down the street and headed into a Mexican dive. We slurped down ultra strong margaritas. Sometime during dinner, I had a complete blackout. My next memory, waking up at my place the next day. What happened? I had no idea.
I called our mutual friend, Tim, to get Karen's number. After a week passed Tim had not got the number, and I moved on to other projects. A couple of weeks later, I ran in to Karen's friend.
"Hey, please give Karen my number when you see her."
A couple of days later, my voicemail chimed. "Hey, you silly little drunk. I gave you my number the night we met, and saw you program it in your cell. When Tim called to get my number, I told him not to give it to you since you were such a drunk. But, now I feel bad for you, so give me a call." Winning because I am a loser, nothing sweeter.
I also learned, after dinner the first time we met, I had gone back to her house, using "can I come up to your place, to use the bathroom" rap. I also learned, that I had her partially disrobed, and got to make out with her tits.
A week later we met for our first date, which proceeded to my couch.
As we were making out, "We can't have sex tonight," Karen spoke. Ahh, how many have I heard that as I caressed her boobs. Minutes later, I slid my hand between her crotch., Her hips undulated on the couch.
"Fine, fine! You win!! Let's get into your bed." I smiled, an impish smile. And I won all night long.
Well, that brings you the reader, to last night. We met last night and quickly consumed three pitchers of Sangria. Well, mostly me. I was starting to lose sensation in my hands from the excessive alcohol.
"We better head off, it is getting late," I offered. I looked at my watch. It was only 9pm, we had only been here 2 hours, but I was loaded.
We found ourselves in my bed, naked. I donned a condom, and got it in. Shit, this was not working. Alcohol had got the best of me. I excused myself to the bathroom to compose myself and tug on my cock. I slipped another rubber on, but was met by the same results.
Now, I was on top of her, trying to poke it in.
"No condom, no sex!"
"Please let me put it for one second," I pleaded."No condom, no sex," she repeated. I turned it up a notch. I face planted into her crotch. Shortly after, she tugged me up by my hair, and slid me in her. Three strokes later, I came on her boobs. She lay there dumbfounded.
Well, things happen. I guess I had won again.
Off the Dole
I have some awful news to share with everyone. As of March first I will no longer be unemployed. No more living of the state of IL, no more days drifting off in front of the couch banging off 9 epsidoes of L&O on TiVo. My friend Van emailed me upon the news..."Are you going to have to wear pants to work?"
I responded with dejection..."Everyday." He was referrring to my previous job where I worked from home, and did not put pants until heading off to Subway for lunch, followed by a quick nap on the couch.
I had been playing phone tag with Rubab (please see Friends With Benefits, 5/13/05), and we had finally decided to meet up Tuesday evening. My intentions were two-fold, one was to catch up with her, I had not seen her in over a year, the second, was to hopefully fornicate with her. Dark haired, Rubab had an auditon at six and was going to call me after to set up time and place. She is a struggling actress/bartender with an engineering degree. Three and half hours passed and I was on the verge of pleasuring myself. The phone rang.
"Rutt, we are at Gibsons. Do you want some champagne?" Two thoughts rushed to my mind, one, who is we? and two, was I about to get stuck with a $300 bill for a magnum.
I walked the two blocks to meet them at Gibsons. Gibsons is old school $35 filet mignon steak house. This place is packed every single night, and I've read it grosses over $20 million a year. It is a Chicago landmark. I see Rubab and her friend, thankfully female sitting at a table in the bar area.
The friend is skiny with red hair wearing a puffy blue shirt circa Seinfled 1997. Her name is Cindy and she stands to greet me with two kisses and is clearly drunk. As I catch up with Rubab, Cindy hovers around the bar speaking to every random and then joins the pianist to sing jazz classics. She is a struggling jazz singer/waitress. You have to like the artsy types.
Cindy settles back in and reaches over and plants a kiss on my lips. This is a little akward since I was hoping to hook up with Rubab. But I am the master of low hanging fruit, I don't mind switching gears. Cindy repeats the process of kissing me, and then proceeds to insert her tongue in my mouth. Rubab is aware of this, and is actually encouraging the both of us.
The music catches Cindy's attention. She grabs me tight and starts grinding on me. The turtle emerges from its shell, and her warm, tongue darts around my ear. I am now really turned on. We sit down, followed by more kissing, and me sliding my hand down her pants and grabbing her ass.
This girl is clearly drunk, time to employ the second half of
I squared. I need to isolate her from Rubab. I whisper to her that I have some champagne at my house and we should depart. My plans are scuttled when the three of us head off to Dublins for one more drink. Again, I encourage her to depart, but I am met with head wobbling drunkeness. I give up the good fight after getting her number and head home.
Pretty in Pink
It has been tough first quarter....dumped by my stripper girlfriend (Green Day story) in early January, rejected by "Time Machine" Allison last weekend, and never-got-things started with my Chinese model girlfriend, plus easily another half dozen rejections. I was due for a breakout, and I just got it.
Last night found me on the South Side of Chicago, not the ghetto, but at a turn of the century mansion near the lake. A friend of mine was throwing, what I would call a grown-up party. That means, you had to dress up, there was a DJ, a band, 4 bars set up, and a staff of twenty running around. It was called the Pink Party. Most everyone was wearing one article of pink clothing. I of course was an exception, just too lazy. The other interesting dynamic was that 70% of the crowd was gay. Don't ask, don't tell, but this was not your traditional beer swilling fraternity throw down.
I was queued at the bar in the midst of the throng. A long-haired blonde grasped my arm, to get my attention and move closer to the bar. I ignored her. She scooted around me, and came up on the other side of me. I took a closer look. Skin-tight black pants and top, and sharp pink high heels.
"I really need a drink," she stated.
I grunted.
"It is so hard to get his attention."
"I am sure if you make eye contact, he'll come right over." I responded, referencing the bartender. "I was talking about you!" she blurted in frustration.
"I know," I smiled."Why aren't you hitting on me? I'm hot!" she retorted. Not that I am some master of pyschology, but I was employing a strategy of negging and cocky/funny. You can read about these strategies in
The Game. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060554738/104-2184279-7571906?v=glance&n=283155 The short of the strategy is all hot girls expect to be catered to....open the door, pay the bill, step out of the way so I can get my drink first, flatter her, initiate conversations. I employed the opposite strategy, I ignored her, insulted her, and acted evasive and cocky. It worked.
Before I knew it, I was pushed up against the wall in the bathroom, her tongue slid into my mouth, her knee, crammed into my crotch. I was wondering if she was going to fuck me right there. That dream quickly came to an end, when she started snorting coke off her credit card.
This one is a keeper.
She dragged me out on the dance floor, we were encircled on the floor by a dozen male couples holding each other in bear clasps.
"We should head out to the Zebra Lounge," I suggested. I needed to isolate her out of this party. We headed to her Mercedes S550 and headed north.
"You know we really have two options...""Such as?"
"Well we can go to Zebra, or head to my house and watch a movie," I offered at close to 3 AM."Rutt, you know we are not going to watch a fucking movie...."
"Fine, let's go to my place and fuck."Her body curled around me in the bed. Clothes started to slowy came off. My hand traced her torso. She was so thin, I felt both her kidney and liver.
"We can't have sex."
"I really want to eat your pussy," I responded as I slid my hands down her pants. She melted, her pants came off. And she left the next day right before noon.
Musings....Another Low Point
It is always fun to determine if you have hit another low point.....recent actions testing that benchmark include being rejected by the female janitor at Miami Subs at 5 AM ("I'm married to the bible") to making out with a cab driver at 2 AM in Orlando. Don't worry it was female but she was impersontating a troglodyte.
Today, during my fourth jerk off session, I found myself masturbating to a mannequin. Now, don't get me wrong, I have an active imagination. I have jerked off to Ariel (the Disney cartoon), annual reports, and a girl I saw on the T from 1995. I have a databases of hundreds maybe even thousands, that I can pull out depending on my mood. I have impreganated thousands upon thousands of Kleenexes in 42 states and 38 different countries.
But today, was the first time I yanked it to someone without a head. On Oak Street, is an upscale boutique with two mannequins clothed in some sexy pink lingerie. So, as I took a break from my seventh Law & Order, I realized my mind was drifting to those lovely headless mannequins........
There Are No Time Machines
Yes, I am angry. Fucking angry. Listen, there are no time machines, no way to turn back the clock. You have made your bed, no sleep in it. I don't care if the bed is covered in my jism, and you are in the wet spot. Shut up, and put out!
Well, this is an update regarding Allison and
"Hide the Tip" from 12/28. This past Friday I was in Boston, and I set up a rendevous for dinner with her. If you recall, right before Christmas, I had her spread eagle in her bed, munching her rug. Sadly, I was tackled by the ankles at the one yard. I am cool with that, she didn't owe me anything. I made a noble effort, employing trickery, deceit, alcohol, and begging. She said no, we went to bed, and I rubbed one out on her thigh the next morning. She was a cool girl, and I was looking forward to seeing her again. Little did I know.
I picked her up for dinner a great new Italian place in Coolidge Corner, Brookline, MA. It was dark, illuminated with candles, and cozy. It was a good vibe. The conversation was good, and two bottles of wines was consumed. Allison if admitted she was feeling drunk. I felt good at about my odds.
We departed at half past elevan and were met by the brisk winter air. We walked the ten minutes to her apartment. I mentally pictured myself suckling her massive D cups. My high school football coach always told us to envision the next play. We neared her apartment.
"Rutt, what are your plans for tonight?" Allison queried.
"Ahhhhhhh," I stalled. "It is near midnight, I don't have any plans.""I can't fool around tonight!" She blurted. "I am so embarrassed about last time. I couldn't believe I got naked and we did the things we did!" She droned on and on. I quickly consoled her by comforting her with the fact we did not have sex. My boob sucking dreams quickly dissapated to me making out we her on the couch for fifteen minutes. Little did I know, again.
In front of her condo, she reaches over and hugs me. "Thanks for dinner," she smiles.
"Can we call for cab?" I make a last ditch effort for hooking up, seeing that I am now not even invited into her place.
"Sure," she reaches into her purse to grab her cell phone to call a taxi for me. I am completely befuddled and dissapointed.
"I'll call you tommorow," I lie, as she whe enters her building.
Maybe, you recall,
"The Take Back" from 8/23.
I can not stress this enough. You can not go back in time. The past is the past, you can't do it over. Allison and I have not spoken. Happy Valentines.
Vegas, Superbowl Style
Vegas. Sin City. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Degenerates, alcoholics, gamblers, whores, strippers, fake tits all converging in several square miles of prime grade USA real estate. Who wouldn't have fun?
The crew of Ricky, Mickey, and myself headed out for a little Vegas Superbowl at Mandalay. I t
urned your typical 3 day weekend into 6 days. If you read the previous story (Double Down, 9/2005) I headed out on Wednesday to meet up with Katy, a long-legged, black 24 year old who I had met in September. For some bizzarre reason, I was upgraded to a 2500 square foot, 2 bedroom 3 bath apartment on the 61 st floor. This might have been the highlight of the
weekend besides shaking hands with Charles Barkley in the bathroom, leering at Brooke Burkes butt at the blackjack table, or han
ging out with Chuck Zito from the HBO show OZ.
Katy and I had a very intimate 2 days until my friends arrived on Friday. From bubblebaths to lingerie shoots. The rest of the weekend involved high amounts of
booze consumption, tit staring, excessive gambling, and rejections
piled upon each other.
Fingerblasting in Miami
What started off as a quick session of finger blasting a hot cheesy Greek girl in the hotel lobby in the wee hours of Thursday morning devolved into 3 nights of heavy drinking by 6 over the hill late-30 year olds in Miami. The crew assembled was Keith, Tucker, Van, Henry, Juice, and me, Rutt. We have been coming to South Beach since 1989, and we are still going to the Clevelander on Ocean Drive. Not much has changed.
The statisitcs really tell the story......
Credit cards lost: 2 Tucker
Cell phones destroyed: 1 Tucker
Hours spent on the corporate helpdesk attempting to get the phone unsuccessfully replaced: 3
Hours spent on the corporate helpdesk impersonatating Tucker and insulting the Indian staff: 1/2 Rutt
Hours spent on the beach: 0
Number of times the ocean was viewed: 1 Van
Number of incidents of fine dining: 0
Rounds of golf: 0
Water sports: 0
Cultural activities: 0
Incidents of finger blasting: 1 Tucker
Incidents of finger blasting involving someone's ex girlfriend: 1 Henry
Number of tatoos: 1 Henry
Hook ups with girls over 180 lbs: 1 Tucker
Number of times laid: 1 Van
Number of people in the room at that time: 3
Number of hook ups with a girl who has a horsey face: 1 Van
Number of bottles bought for bottle service: 5 Van, Keith, Juice, Rutt
Cost of 5 bottles: $2300
Number of mudslides Friday afternoon: 47
Credit card roulettes: 1
Amount: $300 rutt
Vomiting: 1 Van
Chicken schwarmas consumed: 4 Rutt
Drunk dials: 26 Rutt
Number of rejections for Rutt: 30 that he recalls
Thursday22 year old girl fro Guilford, CT
Waitress from Automatic Slims
Dimitria, cheesy hot Greek girl
Lubia, her Ukrainian friend
Friday:Lopez, half Indian/PR girl
Lopez's sister
Lopez's friend
Dawn and Tracy, 2 friends
Maria, a hot Spanish girl
Alexandria, girl in the blue dress with the white underwear
a hot 19 year old black model
some girl from Columbia
2 girls with their boyfriends
the janitor from Miami Subs at 5 AM (this was a low point for the weekend)
an engaged girl (am invited to the wedding though)
SaturdayNasseem and Andrea (2 bartenders who tried to poison me with mayonaise)
divorcee from CT
girl near the bathroom
hot black girl with the tight red top
bartender at Wet Willies
Philipino girl
horny single mother
cute blonde girl from Argentina
Peruvian waitress at Clevelander
Tara, waitress at Clevelander from Jersey
2 girls I yelled at on the street walking to my hotel late night
Priceless...............................................
24 Update.... (see orginal story, 2 below, read first)
The short of it is, this project has been very difficult. Much more than I expected. We have only one girl confirmed to strip for us later today. Van Houten and I successfully watched 7 episodes of 24
http://www.fox.com/24/ on Friday, and then ended the evening in a flury of Kettle and Tonics at Eve of the Eve.
As a reminder here is the add placed at Craig's List...https://post.craigslist.org/manage/121098205/3wg4924................................ (gold coast)
Reply to: gigs-121098205@craigslist.orgDate: 2005-12-31, 10:51AM CSTi have an annual tradition with my buddy. over a 2 day period we watch 24 episodes of 24. no, don't be scared, we are pretty normal and fun. Both SWM, mid 30s. we thought this year, we could make it fun, we are looking for young, attractive girls to serve drinks, prepare snacks, and enjoy america's finest drama. the catch is we are hoping you will be topless. this would be for late next weekend, we are somehwhat flexible on the time and date... please send picture..... $75 an hour (about 2 hrs of work) we are an equal opportunity employer this is in or around gold coast, chicago Compensation: $75 an hour (about 2 hours of work)Here are some communications that took place with potential entertainers.....
This is from the clueless Jo A.Jo Ale ryn@yahoo.com Re: Is Kiefet gonna be there? (She is doing research on him, yet can't spell his name.)or do you know him? I am researching the Brat Pack currently. I may not strip for him. Just curious. Jo A.from
rutt@yahoo.comjo a..... i have met him once before ( I am lieing here) ... he will be with us only in spirit on the TV that day.....it would be great of you to come....
To: rutt@yahoo.com>
Where is it? When? He is really cute...even still.....
J.Here is April...."jerrichs" <jerchs@in.com> wrote:
lol so then how are you going to watch 24 then kind of defeats the purpose dont you thinkFrom: rutt
To:
jechsSent: Tuesday, December 20, 2005 7:44 PM
Subject: Re: do you like kiefer sutherland ?
jerri...
we believe it can be a mutually beneficial pairing. we love both equally
jerichs" <jerichs@in.com> wrote:well actually my name is April but whatever works
From: rutt
To: jerichs
Sent: Wednesday, December 21, 2005 7:43 AM
Subject: Re: do you like kiefer sutherland ?
sorry, april!
so do you want to come?
jerinrichs" <jerinrichs@in.com> wrote:i would but i only take my cothes off if im changing sleeping or having sex
From: rutt
To: jerrrichs
Sent: Saturday, December 24, 2005 1:47 PM
Subject: Re: do you like kiefer sutherland ?
merry xmas...
not an issue.... bring several sets of clothes with you to my house.....
"jernrichs" <jernrichs@in.com> wrote:
we will see. i havent ever seen 24 and spending my day serving guys who arent my friends dont really appeal to me since i usually do that when my guy friends come over and we watch films. But depending on the day we will see.
April
From: rutt
To: jerrrichs
Sent: Tuesday, December 27, 2005 12:11 PM
Subject: Re: do you like kiefer sutherland ?
april april april.....
you seem pretty cool. i can totally gurantee yuo that me and my buddies are much more fun to be with then your guy friends...... and 24 is such a great show.....
From Dave (Obviously, this guy did not justify a answer, it was gay of him even to write me)
Sissy, my buddy and I watch the whole season in 24hours.j/k, rock on
From a desparate financially strapped "L"
L.
Tell me more. I am interested, and I could use the money. When and where? What body types are you looking for?
One more time from L.....
I am a little chubby, but very attractive, nice tits face, and intellegent and fun. I get enough looks and propositions to be secure in saying that. This isn't the sort of thing I usually do, but I am in a tight spot financially right now. I can send you pictures of me, but I'm nervous about sending them to someone I might know. Could you tell me your name and your friends? Or just send pics?
And last up..... Cindy
>Cindy <kst@hotmail.com>
wrote: Hi,My name is Cindy and I was interested in your ad. Please tell me more about the job and exactly what you will want me to do. The pay sounds decent, but would you consider paying a little more if I worked in the nude? Let me tell you a little about myself. I am 29 yrs old, 5ft5 and I am a natural 36B-25-36. Attached are a couple of pics of what I look like and if you are further interested I can send in some additional snapshots of myself in the nude.Let me know what you think.
>From: Rutt>To: Cindy ksens@hotmail.com>>Subject: Re: 24................................ Date: Fri, 30 Dec 2005 >09:42:40 -0800 (PST)hi Cindy....my buddy is coming over , so we will discuss your propsal. it will probably boost your case if you email us the nudes...the job is pretty low key, duties include, serving us lunch/drinks, watching tv, if you want maybe a little dancing during commericals.
Subject:
Re: 24................................
Date:
Fri, 30 Dec 2005 09:58:24 -0800
I'd like to make an extra $75 for working in the nude for the 2 hours. Aslong as you aren't expecting any other services your arrangment sounds pretty good. Why would there be commercials? Won't it be on a DVD? What do you want me to do while you are watching the show?Attached are some full length shot of me in the nude for you to review. I threw in a couple of closer in shots of my boobs and my butt. Let me know what you think. Cindy
If you are with any children or elderly people with heart conditions, please have them leave the room. Some of these images are disturbing........
Hide the Tip
It was Wednesday night before Christmas. I had gathered with 15 guys to take in the Celtics at the TD Bank Garden in Boston playing the Utah Jazz. We decided to make this mustache night. That simply means wearing some sort of foolish facial hair to attract attention, like a beautiful peacock, well giant, bloated, pasty peacocks. We were literally the third row from the back in the highest balcony. Our mustaches were wasted on 5 high school girls from Danvers who promptly turned down our offers to be their upcoming prom dates.
Van Houten, Randy, and I found our way to Whiskey's on Bolyston after the game. The whole time we were complaining about how weak Boston was regarding talent. Whiskey's seemed to be the only game in town.
We promptly grabbed a table in the corner, started pummelling Miller Lites. After a bit of work, we had several girls darting around the table for entertainment. There was a Cinamon, the Turk and her Catholic-Irish (surprise, surprise in Boston) friend, Jen. Two more girls soon joined us, the inebreited Karen, and her friend Allison.
Randy was clearly was not doing that well with his "gay dancer" rap. Two of the girls took him at face value, at least the gay part. I started closing Allison. She was blonde, cute, and very booby, D cup maybe more.
The lights went on at Whiskey's....
"Allison, why don't we pick up a movie, maybe a pizza, and go back to my friend's house and hang out." I was staying at my friend's condo in Beantown.
"Rutt, it is 2 AM. Where are we going to "pick up a movie" at this time? Why don't we go to my place in Brookline." This was too easy I thought. Of course I readily agreed. As we headed to the door, "Oh, one more thing, no sex tonight, OK?"
"Totally, no problem. We can totally just make out and cuddle.""You know I am in sales, I just want to set expectations."
We arrive at her condo, ironically next store to where my Dad lives. We sit on the coach, she turns on her music, and busts out some champagne. Who is closing who? Her laptop is placed in front of me, and I show her my pictures from my trip to Asia on snapfish (see prior stories). I suggest we head into her bed. I am immediately in my boxers as I wait for her to arrive.
After a bit of coaxing, she is naked, giant fleshy globes are perched on her chest. I am rubbing every oriface with vigor. Finally, my mouth clamps down on her snatch. Let's just say cuffs don't match the curtains. My tongue darted around this muff of dark hair. I slide up, and start poking her with my cock.
"Remember no sex," she stutters out.
"Just let me put the tip in for a second.""No, you promised."
"Come on, I just want to see how it feels." This goes on for five minutes. It is now 4 AM. I quit, roll over and go to bed immediatley.
The morning starts off with boob sucking coupled with vigorous cock rubbing on her leg. I finish, then leave.
24
Hi all. I am back in America....after a quick 30 hour transit, I made it back to the snow covered plains of the mid west. So there is no need to call the State Department to place me on the list of missing foreign travelers. Asia was simply fantastic....from the girls to the tours of poultry processing farms, simply fantastic.
24. A straight forward, great show. Despite my desire to watch the show this year, I used my meager willpower and decided against it. I am hoping to partake in the Second Annual Van-houten-Simpson 24 Marathon.
Last year, Van-Houten and I, secluded oursleves over New Year's weekend in my apartment. Van-Houten's parents had thoughtfully purchased the 24 DVD. Over a 2 day stay in my apartment, we managed to watch all 24 episodes, eat 5 pizzas, take numerous dumps, and get completely plastered at 2 black tie events at night all in 48 hours. Even Kiefer Sutherland would be proud of our single minded dedication.
Well, we are back at it again, and we decided to raise the bar. Everything is in order. Van-Houten will be here next Tuesday. It is already confirmed that he is receiving 24 on 12/25. And I was very busy last night at 4 Am.
I was having a little difficulty sleeping, and meandered over to craigs list.......
http://chicago.craigslist.org/adg/119422170.html.
do you like kiefer sutherland ? (gold coast, chicago)
Reply to: gigs-119422170@craigslist.orgDate: 2005-12-20, 3:03PM CSTi have an annual tradition with my buddy. over a 2 day period we watch 24 episodes of 24. no, don't be scared, we are pretty normal and fun. Both SWM, mid 30s. we thought this year, we could make it fun, we are looking for young, attractive girls to serve drinks, prepare snacks, and enjoy america's finest drama. the catch is we are hoping you will be topless. this would be for late next week, we are somehwhat flexible on the time and date... please send picture..... $75 an hour we are an equal opportunity employer and great news....first email today.....
Hi there!I am responding to your ad on Craigslist for a server for your 2-day "24" marathon. I believe I would be a perfect candidate for the job. I have previously worked as a naked maid, and therefore have experience serving and cleaning without the normal hang-ups most women have about their bodies. I am completely free and uninhibited when it comes to nudity, and I would be more then happy to serve you snacks and drinks, so you could relax, enjoy a great drama and maybe even enjoy a great-looking female.I have attached a few basic pictures. If you want more, just ask. :-) I can be reached either at this e-mail address, or by phone at (856) 237-539.Thanks for your time! I look forward to hearing from you soon!Bria
Count Your Lucky Stars
A dancing Arab wearing a plaid shirt tucked into white shorts, black socks, and sneakers. A midget taking photos for the crowd, wearing a shiny suit, deformed, with his feet reversed. An aging, fat whore from Tajikistan. A man in a double wide wheelchair being squired with his whore. This is the scene that greeted me on Thursday night at the Grace Hotel in Bangkok. And these people were happy! really happy. This is considered their highlight of the week, if not month.
I am not saying I close every night, not even close. But as I scanned the crowd of whores, visions of the cantina from Star Wars rushed into my head. It was the model UN. I checked to see if Boutras Boutras was spinning the wax. You had desparate men from India to Iran, gyrating with brio on the dance floor. Prostitutes from every dank corner of the Third World intermingled with them. Sex sells. And whores from Morrocco to Belarus knew to congregate in Bangkok.
These sad men hoped to make a 2000 baht love connection for the hour. Maybe their wives were away, they were on a business trip, or maybe this was simply the best they could do.
The evening provided for high comedy, and a brief respite until I headed back to Kao Sarn Road.
Prior to the Grace Hotel, I found myself in Pattpong. Famous for being seedy. I went to see the world famous sex shows of Thailand. I sat down at a stool to face the stage and literally was hit in the leg by a bannana that was launched from the performer's snatch. I felt a bit quesy and really wanted to shower off. A train of whores successively entertained the crowd with feats all orginating with their pussy. Frogs jumped out, balloons were popped with darts, ping pong balls were launched, bouquets of flowers were produced. You know many Thai parents must be very proud of their daughters.
Yai Ling and the Mosquito
That is me, big monkey, aka Yai Ling. She has slept over two nights in a row, and she still doesn't know my name. She calls herself, mosquito. She weighs 38 kg, and her name is Usa.
We met Monday night. Sanjay and I went down to the river to celebrate the Thai King's birthday. Hundreds of thousands of people roamed the streets to enjoy the fireworks, and the king's calvacade. I am not positive, but I think the king did wave to me.
At the celebration, Sanjay and I met two Swedish girls and went drinking with them on Kao
Sarn Road. They left and we headed down to the mats on Rambuttri Street. The bars close at 1 AM in Bangkok. But that just paves the way for the local bussiness people. Accross from my hostel, a guy has set up a half dozen mats that he places on the street, and serves booze out of his van. This goes on to 5 or 6 AM every morning. It is the last chance saloon.
Sanjay and I stroll down the street, it is a quiet night, since technically, in honor of the king no booze is supposed to be served. Immediately, Usa the 28 year old Thai mosquito/waitress brings me a Singha and sits down with me. In 30 minutes she places her first kiss on me. And thirty minutes after that she tells me she is sleeping over. Who am I to argue?
Unfortunately, I have to wait until after 5 AM, untill she cleans up the bar with her boss. We hit
the small single bed when the sun begins to rise. And she never leaves. It is now Wednesday and she is still in my room. She begins work the next day at midnight. And she has decided to spend the morning, day and evening in my room. Every couple of hours I head into my room, wake the sleeping mosquito, with a new condom.
Update, Thursday morning, 7 AM, I hear pounding on the door. I lethargically pull myself to answer....Usa laughs at me, runs pass me, pulls her clothes off, and jumps in bed. She still is there, sleeping.
We sit together the next night. I'm drinking, she's working.
"So, Usa, what is my name?""Yai Ling!"
"What?""Yai Ling!"
"What the hell is Yai Ling?""You Yai Ling, I'm mosquito."
"Huh?""You my big monkey!"
The Take Down, The Gift & The Thin Line
I am back in Thailand, with a lot of pent up energy. I have to be honest, I haven't had that much success, a couple of quick make outs, that really went no where. Well, that has all changed.....
The Take DownI have made a new friend, Sanjay. He is brown, balding, talkative, and always ready to go. I met him through the manager of the Indian restaurant I go to for lunch everyday. Sanjay runs a jewlery business, of course import/export. He travels all around Asia. But recently he confided in me, that he is a money launderer and smuggler. He only deals with corrupt businesses, not Al Quedia. One of his buddies got pinched and sent to the US for a long prison term for laundering terrorist money. Sanjay wants no part of this.
Sanjay, VJ (the restaurant manager, and I were having lunch the other day...
"How many times have you got laid?" Sanjay asked.
"0" I stated quietly.
"What! It is so easy. I was sleeping with 3 Thai girls a day, when I first got here. Look at me! I am brown, and balding. If I looked white like you , there would be no stopping me. Now I am tired of it. We will go out tonight, I'll show you." Sanjay advised, with his constant smile.
Later that evening, we headed down Kao San road, and spent some time in Lava. A decent little disco, a nice mix or farangs (foreigners) and the locals. The disco closed, and we headed down a side street around 1 AM. We sat down on the street, literally. Some entrepenuner has placed mats on the road, and was now serving drinks. We joined a mixed group, American, Canadians, French (eech), and soon 3 Thai girls.
Three Thai girls walked by, and Sanjay asked them to join our large group. At this point he had taken off his shirt to relax in the summer night heat.
"Make eye contact," Sanjay implored."No!" I whined
"Talk to those girls!" Sanjay yelled at me in a whisper.
"No," I responded, being stubborn.
After another hour, I opened up the wrap.
"Offer to buy them a drink" Sanjay counseled me.
"No!" I whispered back, being stuborn.
Thirty minutes later I bought them a round of Singha.
"Ask her to go home with you," Sanjay once again offered me sage advice.
"Which one?"
"It doesn't matter," he smiled.
The one sitting next to me was good enough.
"Da, do you want to go home with me?"
"OK," she smiled.It was about 3 AM, and we stumbled back to the hotel room. I hate to dissapoint my readers, but she was no looker. I hate to use the word "big boned", but she was not your stereotypical thin Thai girl. No matter, it was a text book take down, under the guidance of Sanjay, my guru.
I have to admit, I have never seen a girl more honored or excited to have sex with me than Da. She loved sucking me, and with the biggest smile I have ever seen. We rocked all night, and started over in the morning.
The Gift
Ko Samui, is simply stunning. Crystal blue oceans wrapped around beaches nestled between mountains.
The first night I hit the town solo. Around ten in the evening, I ended up strolling down a side street that was simply overrun by whores. Every bar beckoned was easy girls. It was
overwhelming. I found the one civilian bar, empty. I rested at the bar, and was soon in a competitive contest of Connect Four, with the 2 bartenders, and 3 waitresses. All five soundly beat me, repeatedly. What do they say about Asians suprassing the West econimcally? I was having a solid, innocent time, and nicely buzzed. I was getting ready to head back to the hotel, when Noi, one of the waitresses, jammed a note in my hand.
Be Quiet. I want to go home with you tonight. Wait for me outside. The note stated.
Wow, I didn't even talk to her, I thought. Now, Noi, was a lot cuter than Da. She was tiny, with a nice little body, and of course long dark hair. I think she might have spoke fluent English, but she had the worst speech impediment. Or maybe, she couldn't speak English at all, and didn't have a speech impediment. Who knows? Who cares?
I crumpled the note, and waited outside around the corner for Noi. Whores cam at me in droves, thinking I was easy pickings. Noi emerged from the bar and we headed to my hotel.
Upon arrival, she stipped down naked, and hopped into the jacuzzi bath. I quickly joined her, We had a great night and morning.
Now Noi, had two jobs, a day one and a night one, I think 7 days a week. As she left at 7 AM to go to work, she informed me that she would be back at 6 that evening for one hour before she started her second job at the bar. Jackpot! I spent the whole day drinking and sunning at the pool. And like clock work, this 23 year old strolls in at 6pm. An hour later, she strolls off to work, I fall asleep, happy and content.
That night, I went drinking with some new British friends, ended up at the bar from the night before. Noi crumpled another note in my hand, she was coming back after work again. Who could say no? Ko Samui, post card perfect....
The Thin LineThis one is a bit complicated. I was with my friend, Lam. He is a triple threat: singer, dancer, and hairdresser. And he is gay. He had a penchant for manhandling me at a moments notice for no apparent reason. But, I am willing to take my lumps for the greater good. Lam happened to know every hot piece of tail, model tail.
I was at Q Bar, and ran into Lam. Lam was with his hot model girl friends. Next thing I knew, Lam, 5 models and me were having late night Chinese food at 2 AM, just like the Combat Zone in Boston. I made small talk, funny talk, any talk.
One girl, Tha, was striking: dark skinned, beautiful body. I called Lam the next day, and
expressed my interest in Tha, maybe it was Thi. I can't really remember. Later that night, the three of us met. I tried to makeout with her as she rested on her motobike at the end of the night. She shut me down. Time to turn it up a notch.
My timing was bad, I was flying out the next day. I invited Tha to join me. "Don't worry, I assured her, I'll take care of everything." This was a roll of the die, she refused my requests to join me in my hotel room. Would anything happen after I flew her up?
Three days later, she took a flight and joined me at my hotel. She looked hot, attired in a pink dress, with her dark hair up. At dinner, I found out she was one of 11 children, was actually Cambodian, and was formally engaged and living in Paris.
The booze flowed, the conversation followed. She enquired about past relationships.
"Did you buy your girlfriend many presents? How often did you take her shopping?" she questioned."Not really, she made good money, I explained. I paid for manythings, put she also contributed."
"Her dark face scrunched up in confusion, We can go shopping tommorow before 
I leave, right?"I mumbled something avoiding this uncomfortable conversation.
We left the restaurant, and headed to the hotel. We found each other in bed. She wore matching pink panties and bra. I slid them off quickly. Her skin was perfectly soft, and her hair cascaded down. She went all night, and we started from where we left off in the morning.
We finished a late breakfast. We held hands. Shortly we were both departing in different directions. I thought this was well worth the investment in the airline ticket.
"We go shopping now?" It was not so much a request but more as a statement of fact.
Before I knew it I had purchased her a new dress and had recharged her cell phone.
It is a thin line between love and prostitution.
Green Day
Green Tie Ball is an event to look forward to in September in Chicago. I have gone to this party for 5 years, with varying degrees of success. Great booze, food, bands, and hot girls looking their best. 2005 was no different. A group of 20 met at Zellas for pre-cocktails. After an hour, we slithered down the street to continue our boozing at the ample open bars in our balck tie regalia.
As usual, at the end of the night, I found myself, alone and drunk. I had got some numbers, even danced, but no clear prospects for that evening. I hustled with the throng, fighting for a taxi. I surrendered and ended up at the 7-11. I made small talk with the Ecquadorian couple working there as I scoffed down 2 frozen burritos.
My cell phone rang.
"Rutt, we are at Y bar, come on over. We have a table," my friend Mike bellowed over the din.
"I'll be there in 15 minutes," as I garbeled down the rest of my late night dinner. This is good, I thought, I was hitting on Mike's little cousin earlier in the evening, maybe I can continue. She was cute.
A little after one in the morning I arrived at this trendy hot spot. I found Mike and a large group in the VIP section. Shit, 7 couples, and no little cousin. I grabbed a red bull with vodka, and surveyed the crowd.
Next to our table, was a lone girl dancing. Within five mintues, I was escorting her out of the bar on my arm. To this day, I could not tell you what I said, but somehow it worked.
We ended up crusing to two clubs, names I can't recall.
"I'm hungry," Jenny stated.
"No problem, we can go to Tempo," I responded. It was until we got to Tempo and there were 50 people in line. We then made a bee line to Divsion for pizza. Same thing, people 20 deep, milling in the street.
"Hey, we can go to my place, and order pizza!" I offered with feigned orginality. I ordered the garlic pizza on our walk to my place.
I quickly had her down to her thong as we waited in my bed. "We are not having sex tonight, and I am on my period!" she bellowed out of the blue. Way to kill the moment I thought. I quickly put her at ease as I sucked her boobs.
We all have our dream girls, and mine was now in my bed. Long dark hair, firm fake breasts, nipples just the right length, belly button ring over her shaved snatch. She was 5'7" and was a taut 110 pounds. I was in my glory. We rolled around the bed until pizza came at 4 AM. We passed out between the pizza box and crust on the bed.
Morning rolled around, and I tried to start things up. She was curled into a tight ball, very hungover. Finally, I laid on top of her, and started grinding. I might as well drop a nut on her stomache. A minute before coming, I pointed to her jeweled g-string.
"Can we take this off?" I whispered."OK, get a condom," she breathed out.
I quickly snapped one on and went to work. Two pumps and a quiver later, I was finished. I kept banging her for another five minutes so as not to look too pathetic. I pulled out and thought I needed to call Gill Grisham of CSI. The bed was spattered in blood. I guess she didn't make up the period thing.
"Um, I need to go downstairs. The Patriots are on TV. You can stay here and sleep." I offered."OK, do you think you could bring me a shake when you come back?" I found her purse on the other bathroom floor, and quickly scribbled down her name and other information. You never can be too careful. I didn't want my place cleaned out in my absence.
As I made my way to the bar, I quickly recounted the events of the evening. There was a sketchiness about this girl. Then I realized it. She was a stripper. She mentioned she was a "dance instructor." Her body, the belly button ring, the tatoos, the fake boobs. She was a stripper! (Please see the author's story Stripper Beautiful.)
I ran downstairs and gleefully recounted my story to my waiting buddies. At halftime, I returned to the room and awoke a hibernating Jenny. She smiled when I presented her with the chocolate shake. I put on another rubber, and was downstairs at the bar for the third quarter. This process was repeated at the end of the game. We lay entwined in the bed. I checked my watch, I had 2 hours to get to Vegas. Jenny and I said a rushed goodbye.
To be continued.....
From Moto-bikes to Mules
Have you ever been driving your car with your friends, and had to slide up the seat to give somone more legroom in the back? Maybe, you are not quite as comfortable, maybe a little squished? Well, shut the fuck up, you spoiled bastard.
Besides some disagreeable traffic, the most difficult thing about transporation in the US is deciding between the 3 or 5 Series. In Asia, it is a different story...transporation varies from tuk-tuk, cyclos, bikes, horses, elephants, camels, oxes, mini-buses, trucks, cars, buses, or simply walking. Not only are you not comfortable, but there is a good chance you will die.
Bhutan (look it up in an Atlas)The whole country is one giant mountain overlooking a valley with a river running through it. And there is one road that winds around the mountain from town to town. Now, I am not going to tell you there is any sort of traffic, but it is a shitty place to drive. Thimpu, the biggest city does not have even one traffic signal. When I say there is a road, I mean one lane. And when I say one lane that is for both directions of traffic. So rememeber there are no straight aways, everything is a blind curve. When there is oncoming traffic, one of you has to drive off the road to let the other pass. Usually, the smaller car will pull over.
So when you here that the town is only 60 miles away, that does not mean 45 minutes. That means over 2 hours of stomache turning roads. The additional downside, is when miscalculating a turn, potentially results in a drop of a hundred yards or so and death.
Vietnam
This one takes the cake. Here is the breakdown, 2% trucks/buses, 2% bikes, 1% cars, and 95% moto-bikes. A moto-bike is not a motorcycle, a moto-bike is a more mature moped. At armagedeon, locusts blacken the sun, it is somewhat the same in Ho Chi Minh City. There are 7 million people in the city and 14 million moto-bikes. For a novice it is near impossible to cross the street. The hordes of moto-bikes is near incessant.
There are no laws, barely any traffic signals, no traffic cops, and of course no crosswalks. You hope for the best, a slow amble across the street and the bikers are supposed to weave around you. That is how it usually works. (I did get hit by one in Hanoi.) A typical 4 lane intersection turns into 16 lanes. Bikers can drive in any direction, in any lane, at any speed. Of course, no helmets. It is pure pandemonium.
You have to realize the moto-bike is the equivalent, of the family station wagon, a pick up truck, and a sports car. It is a typical site in Vietnam, to see a family of five on one; or, someone hauling a coffin, computer, or a ladder; or a couple off to dinner, with a young hottie in the back sitting side saddle in a mini skirt, or 3 buddies crammed on one seat going out to piant the town ( I know kind of gay).
The favorite Vietnamese past time is blowing their horn on their moto-bike. It can be a stacato burst, simply holding down for minutes, or pleasant R2-D2 chirping. The only requirement is that you use it generously. In fact, it can be dawn, no vehichles on the road, and your driver will be holding down the horn for hours.
It is quite easy, to sit on the sidewalk and be entertained for hours on end by the traffic.
I swore to myself last year, I would never ride one of these machines. But one nught I was pressed for time, Tahn appeared out of the shadows, as a knowledgeable guide. In minutes, I was nestled on the bike, gliding through the crowded streets. He was my guide for the rest of the week.
India
India wins for diversity in transportation.
Old Delhi makes the Star Wars Cantina look like a debutante ball. The sights and smells are difficult to describe. Across this busy thoroughfare every type of animal finds it way mixed with pedestrians, carts, bikes, tuk-tuks, cyclos, buses, and cars. It is a site of pure amazement. A group of turbaned Sihks will be pushing a cart, next to a man with no legs walking on his hands, next to 12 schoolgirls in uniform jammed in a tuk-tuk. A tuk-tuk, is a 3 wheeled moto-bike with a small compartment to sit in the back. The police watch, as traffic piles to a stand still, no one obeys any rules, except for the incessant beeping of any horn. This is a common tactic in all of Asia.
Highway traffic, is a bit different. Highways typically mean something different in Asia. Don't get confused with the US. When you think of 4 lanes in one direction, and 4 going the other way with a divider, you will be a bit dissapointed. The highway from the biggest city to the second biggest city in the state of Rajasthan, is 2 lanes, one in each direction, with no divider. Now the diversity is diminished, we still have a grand combination, but there are a lot of 10 ton trucks traveling at fast speeds to increase the fun and chance of death.
Trucks rumble down the road, while other cars and trucks attempt to pass into oncoming traffic, all the while dodging cows, tuk-tuks, and pedestrians. It is a giant game of chicken. This is all done at high speeds, mostly on windy roads. The law of the jungle applies here. The smaller vehichle at the last second will swerve off the road to avoid a collision. At times it can get quite intersting, as the 2 lane road, morphs into 4 lanes, as cars and trucks simultaneously attempt to pass traffic at the same time.
A note on Indian weddings. Indians have somewhat of an independent laissez-faire attitude. They due what pleases them. There is a nice tradition for weddings. A giant procession of well wishers, dancers, musicians, escort the groom to meet his bride at the wedding. The procession may go on for hours, as they meander down streets. The result is dead lock traffic, as cars pile up behind the calvacade. Even better in the Hindu tradition, when marrying you consult with a priest at the temple to pick a favorable day to get married. This results in 1000s of weddings on one night in one city, paraylzing traffic for hours.
Scotty the Hut and the Katooey
He slithered out of his bungalow twice a day, to gorge at the restaurant bar on the ocean. Then he would meander back to his lair. He was a pasty, splotchy Scott that made Grimace look slim at the hips. And he was with a very hot young lithe Thai girl. It is great to see what the power of the pound, euro or the dollar could accomplish. Back home this guy would not be able to get laid with a stack of hundreds and stacks of pardons at the women's correctional facility.
But he was not back home. He was in Thailand, in Ko Samui. We were staying at the beach, the panorama would make a postcard blush. We had a crew that hung out by the bar pool, of course me, three 20 something Britts, a Thai girl and her French boyfriend, the Scott's girlfriend, Noi, and Ning, the waitress.
Now Thailand is a paradise, whether it be the beaches, food, shopping, or girls, but there is of course a darkside: Katooey. Katooey is the Thai word for lady-boy. You amble down the street and are beckoned by a dream girl, only it is not a girl.
Thailand is globaly renowned for cheap and proficient sex changes. In fact, it is thought there are hundreds of thousands of these lady boys. And some of them are beyond convincing. After a bit, you think every girl you are speaking with might not be a girl. A bit discerning to be sure.
Our crew would sit at the bar, slurp Singha beers, and trade stories. The girls would occasssionaly show off their bikkini clad bodies with a quick dip in the pool. Later Noi confided with the French guy's girlfriend as she thumbed through her Thai Cosmo (aka what she called her bible). She was not the PYT in the bikkinni that we thought we were ogling. Scotty the Hut, had met her in Bangkok, and as a present had purchased her what every young Thai wants to find next to the Buddha statue, a sex change operation.
The Brits and I were besides ourselves in disgust. This sick Jabba the Hut flew half way around the world...for what? To live out his twisted fantasy...or was this simply the best he could do? Either way, sick, sick, sick.
The Israel Problem
This story was shared with me with one of the Brits.
I think we can all agree the Israeli/Palestinian question is one that has plagued the world for over a half of a century. It is a situation that has the potential to shake global stability yet seems to have no answer. People the world over debate this issue ad naseum. The same is true apparently in Thailand.
Thai Prostitute: "Where you from?"
Brit: "England."
Thai Prostitute: "Do you know about Israel problem?"
Brit: "Yes, not much has really changed after Arafat."
TP, wrinkles her face in confusion. "When have sex, Israel says I give you only 500 Baht, but problem is, he said before sex, I give you 1000 Baht!"
Brit shakes his head. Maybe the world is not as small as he thought.
Fat Ankled
As some of you might have heard, I have been laid off. It was a demanding 10 months in the world of corporate drones, but now the shackles have been sheared off. I thought I would use this opportunity to travel for a couple of months overseas. Don't worry, I'll be back for Christmas.
Bangkok, Thailand.Hot, sweaty, humid. My hotel is next to Khao Sarn Road, the heart of backpacker central. Every fat ankled, sarong wearing, tatoo clad foreigner, aka Farang, is located on this strip. They find themselves nestled in 200 baht ($5) hostels. The background repeats itself every 150 feet.....internet cafe, 3 outdoor food stalls, tailor, Thai massage, restaurant, and bar. The street is jammed from morning to morning. Revelers drink and eat 24/7. And it is cheap! Dinner for $5, beers for 50 cents.
As you might imagine, the Thai girls are breath taking....long dark hair, slim lithe bodies, and big smiles. This acts as the perfect backdrop to benchmark their Western cousins. These girls amble down the street, their FUPAs and rolls hang out of their cut off shirts. Their ankles buckle under their weight, as they drink Mango juice and drone on about Earth First and anti-Bush sentiments. These American girls are lucky we have strict immigration quotos in the US, otherwise the US would be populated with a bevy of Ameri-asians.
As you might imagine, Thailand is a pretty poor country. Average wages are around $50 a month. As you walk down Khao Sarn road you are induated......taxi rides, tuc-tuc rides, Thai massage, fresh squeezed OJ, or simply a 15 minute conversation regarding any minutia. A five minute jaunt, could have you approached by 10 different offers. Invariably, there comes a point where your smile turns to anger. Don't worry, when I start to yell at a native, I tell them I am from Canada or France. The US doesn't need any more bad press.
Signing off.
Double Down, Two Ditties from Vegas
2003....I was staying at Mandalay Bay on a work trip with two coworkers. We finished up dinner at Rum Jungle, as the bar filled up with merry makers. I spied a very cute young thing stroll in with a guy. I quickly grabbed her attention with the offer of shots. She was a 20 year old college sophomore who was in Vegas with her ex-boyfriend for the weekend.
I knew this “ex-boyfriend” had all the trappings of a cock block. I attempted to sedate him with some additional shots, as I moved to isolate Jill from the competition. I eased Jill to the dance floor for a couple of songs and then started to make out.
“Jill, we should take off, and head to the Foundation Room. There is a beautiful view from there.” Isolate, isolate, isolate. The Foundation Room is a private club in the hotel on the top floor. She relented and we departed through the side door as we clasped hands.
We headed up the elevator and entered the ornate lobby of the Foundation Room. She looked queasy. “I need to get out of here,” Jill yelped. We reversed directions made our way to the high traffic lobby. She leaned over and started to puke in the closest waste basket. I half carried her to my room. I placed her in my bed, and she passed out before her head hit the pillow.
This is the classic, age old debate between good and evil. The good angel encouraged me to take her shoes off and tuck her in. The evil angel, well, you know what he said. I opted to go with the former angel, and headed back to the bar to attempt another pick up.
A couple of hours later, I headed back to my room empty handed. Jill remained where I left her. I crawled into bed next to her.
Dawn peaked through the curtains.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Bad,” she murmured. Jill slowly sat up and scanned the room and then stared at me.
“What the fuck! What the fuck! Where am I? Who are you?” her shrill voice pierced the morning tranquility. I calmed her down, and explained the circumstances of the prior evening. She became quiet and thanked me for being a “gentleman”. Yes, me.
Now this is the part of the story where Jill out of gratefulness is supposed to blow me. Sadly, her thanks were displayed by a 2 hour droning story of her life. Then she left, and I never saw her again.
2005....
This story starts off where Green Day (see story from September) ends. I am back in the Foundation Room with an old buddy from college who now resides in Vegas. J.E. and I, strategically position ourselves at the bar at 11:00 PM on Monday night. I have been told it gets packed here since it is Industry Night. Visions of strippers dance in my head as I imagine the crowd that will soon appear.
I decide to employ a volume approach to meeting women. Anyone within a 10 foot radius is fair game. I am striking out by the dozen. The girls don’t even bother to stay to finish the drink I just bought them. Tough crowd. I start chatting up a girl with humongous hooters. She promptly shoots me down. That simply means I approach her girlfriend standing behind her. Katy is dark and beautiful. She’s 24 with an incredibly hot body. This is the type of girl you want to keep locked in your basement.
Finally, someone has fallen for my boozy rap. Katy is digging me. Remember to isolate! I invite her to hit the blackjack tables with me. She leaves Booby McSorley in the bar. We sit down next to each other, and the kissing begins. We then go the restaurant for a 6 am breakfast. I polish off the bacon egg omelet. Katy offers to drive me to the MGM where I am staying. I throw out every excuse why I need to sleep at her apartment in Vegas. She is having none of it.
Two days later we meet back at Mandalay at one of the lounges on a couch. I start pummeling her with booze, shots, wine, beer, it didn’t matter. I needed to soften her up. I found out we have a bit in common, she loves both Stern and the Simpsons. I start to move in for the make out. I am getting a lot of IOI (indications of interest).
“Katy, maybe we should head to your house. There is a 1:30 AM, showing of the Simpsons on the local Fox affiliate,” I lied. Parry, thrust, block. Repeat. For thirty minutes I pulled out every reason to continue this conversation at her apartment in her bed. She was on the bubble, but her Victorian prudish sense seemed to be winning out.
I relented. I quit. I gave up.
“OK, let’s leave. Can you drop me off?” We headed out. I stopped and grabbed her arm. I paused momentarily for a dramatic pause.
“Oh, my God. Katy! I have a great idea. This is crazy. Let’s get a room, right now, here at Mandalay!” I suggested. She hesitated, and then, she said those magic words, “OK, Rutt, you win. Let’s get a room.”
I headed off to the lobby, handed my credit card, and requested a bottle of their cheapest champagne be sent to the room. Post haste.
For the next several hours my carnal appetite was sated. Porn was watched. Champagne was sucked off glorious tits. Loads were blown on buts and stomachs. At 6 AM, we left, she for work, and me, well to fly back to Chicago. I had a date that night.
The Take Back
I know you wish you didn’t do it, but it is too fucking bad. Maybe you were depressed, lonely, horny, drunk, but it is too bad. You did it, you have to live with it, and you can’t take it back.
What am I talking about? First night sex. There is an intricate dance between the sexes. Who is supposed to call who? When? How many times? Do we meet at the restaurant? Do I pick her up? What do I wear? And hundred of other issues that deal with the minutia of mating. I am not going to touch on any of these except for first night sex.
This past winter my crew and I were drinking in one of the many bars of Lincoln Park. I quickly reversed plans when the girl I brought to the bar suddenly took a keen interest in my buddy, Rellim. No reason to cry, just need to improvise on the fly. My other buddy Rekab was meeting some girls he knew.
I quickly chose my prey in my drunken state. I took a quick photo of her to grab her attention. Sara, was indignant.
“Delete that photo!” she yelled.
“Why?” I smiled.
“Please, I hate having my photo taken.”
“Fine, come downstairs with me and let’s make out. Then I will delete it.”
“Are you serious?” she questioned.Five minutes later, we sat nestled on a couch on the bottom floor of the bar, making out, while she gently rubbed my cock over my jeans. Our mutual friends came downstairs and made fun of both of us. The rest of the night was filled with heavy drinking, potato skins, girl-girl dancing, and a lot of making out. But, no sleep over. That’s not a problem, we live to fight another day.
A week later on a Thursday, Sara and I go to Café Iberico. I have three words for you….Sangria, Sangria, Sangria. Two hours later found Sara and me doing it back at my bachelor condo. I don’t remember too many details since I was pretty drunk, but I recall it was fun.
We went out two more times…..once for a Mexican dinner drunk fest, and once for her dream date. Both resulted in shut outs. We had a double date, where the fours of us consumed large amounts of margaritas, and then went dancing at a cheesy bar. At 2 AM, Sara announces, she doesn’t fee well. She needs $10 for a cab, and we’ll talk later. For her dream date, we started by watching the OC at my house, followed by video games at Dave & Busters. Remember, I said her dream date. That night I was met a refusal of “I have to get up early for work tomorrow.” My patience was wearing thin.
Date three, Sara winds up at my place, my bed. Finally. We start fooling around….
“Remember, how we kind of had sex the first night?” she asks.
“Yeah, it was nice.”
“Well, I think we need to slow down things….you know kind of start over, it was too soon.” The death knell chimes. I grit my teeth.
“Sure whatever you think.”She sleeps over.
“Call me later today,” she smiles.As I stated, there are no take backs. And they were definitely no follow up calls.
Author’s note. This past weekend, my friend Semog was in Chicago, boozing it up on Sunday at Stanley’s. Guess who he runs into….Sara, guess who fucks….Sara. Small world, I wonder if she’ll try and take this one back too.
Any Given Saturday
I was out the other Saturday with the trifecta, that’s me, Miller and Baker. Baker was intent on going to Joe’s on Weed Street, a monstrous hanger of a bar. One of his favorite cover bands, Then Again was playing.
We piled into the bar sometime after ten. Miller and I were content to rest our backs against the bar, guzzling beer after beer, attempting to reach that nirvana of a buzz. The crowd was pretty ugly, we commented. It looked like the bar flew in bunch of fat ankled Irish girls from Boston on a C-130 Hercules from Hanscom Airbase. After two hours, I was ready to pack it in and call it a night. It was a bit hot in there, drunks were bumping into me, and I had racked up a handful of minor rejections.
Miller convinced me to head off to the patio for an al fresco beer. I sat on a stool, while Miller plied his trade. He casted and brought in two live ones. Both were of equal quality, blonde midwestern girls. I was indifferent to which one I hit on, so the one next to me made the most sense. This is a story of the luck of the draw.
Within minutes, Miller realized his girl had a boyfriend at the bar, she disappeared never to be seen again. I am a strong believer in
I squared, but half my work was done. The girl was already quite
isolated with the departure of her girlfriend, now I just needed to make sure she was
intoxicated.
Tanya was 25, wearing jeans, and a tight button down black shirt. We made more small talk, most I forgot. We sat at the bar until the clock approached 3 AM. I recently purchased a new TV, 62 inches, very impressive, (if you are a guy). I then started my movie and pizza rap. It worked and we departed. I yelled my address to the cab driver, but was overruled by Tanya. She wanted home court advantage.
We ended up somewhere in Lake View, a neighborhood near Wrigley Field. She led me into her one bedroom, where I was greeted by a portrait of George W. No need to get into a debate, so I let her lead me into her bedroom.
A couple of bonuses here…..back tat, belly button ring, and an ample bosom. There was definitely enough to play with here. We were quickly were naked, and she was doing this great scratching-nibbling thing. I slid up on top of her, but was headed off at the pass with a condom that she produced. It was pink, kind of gay. She placed it on me, and now it was show time. Well, not really. I didn’t earn my nick name at my Alma Mata for nothing….two pumps and a quiver. I quickly rolled over and went to bed. Stereotypes are sometime true. But it was almost 4 in the morning so I was happy I was still breathing.
Morning came, and I repeated my performance twice more, to her visible disappointment. We can’t all be winners. Late morning, I dressed and meandered into her kitchen.
“Tanya, can I get your number?”
“Sure,” she scribbled it down and handed it to me.”
“Oh, one thing. I want to embarrass you before I leave.” I stated nonchalantly.
“What do you mean?” she asked anxiously.
“What is my name?” I was 99% certain she had no idea.
“Did I show you a picture of my family?” she stuttered.
“What is my name?”
“I am so sorry I don’t know. What is it?”
“I’m not telling. I’ll just say it is “me” when I call.” She pleaded for my name, but I held steady.
Post mortem. I called her twice and she never called me back. Time to put her on my drunk dial list.
Perfect Wife
This is an excerpt from a recent Howard Stern episode......Howard received a letter recently from a listener who claimed he had the perfect wife, so he had them on the show to see if the story held up. According to a list prepared by the husband, Ryan, these are the reasons why his wife, Lynn, is flawless:
• She didn’t change after they got married• She’s pretty• She’s in good shape• She takes care of him sexually every day• She cleans, cooks and cares for their children• She doesn’t make him do houseworkLynn said she weighed 105 pounds and was 5’1”.
She got her breasts increased to a size DD for Ryan. Howard thought she looked good. He was curious about their sex life because Ryan claimed he got sex whenever he wanted. Lynn said there have been times when she didn’t feel like doing it, but she never refused Ryan. She admitted that she didn’t always have sex with him, but she always helped him out in other ways. She thought that because he was such a good provider, it was her job to make him as happy as she could. Ryan also told Howard that his wife gave him one “freebie,” which meant he could cheat on her once without facing any repercussions. Lynn said Ryan has yet to use his free pass because he didn’t want to waste it. Ryan added that the two had been married for 14 years and he was more in love with her now than he ever was. Howard commented that Lynn blew a hole in all of Sal’s theories. However, Howard didn’t think she was totally perfect because she refused to show him her boobs.
Pretty Fucking Gay
The phone rings, it is a lazy Sunday. A towel is wrapped around me, as I just jumped out of the shower. I am running late for lunch with friends.
“Rutt?”“Yeah”
“OK, I really want you to sleep with my girlfriend.”
“What?!”
“Rutt, she really wants to sleep with an Italian guy.”
“Who is this?” I ask incredulously.
“Jim Nav,” he states.“Who?” I have no idea who this is.
“Jim Nav. I really want you to fuck her…”
“How do I know you?” I interrupt.
“I’m a client of your.”“What?”
“Yeah, I used to work at PWC, and you presented to my group.”“You mean, back like in 1998?” I am simply dumbfounded and a bit freaked out.
“So, what I am saying she really wants to fuck an Italian guy.”
“Dude, I am not even Italian.” I retort.
“Well, you know, Italian or Italian looking.”“How did you get my number? I worked at that place two jobs ago and now live in a different city. You just thought of me out of the blue?”
“Well, I just remembered you. You’re good looking, clean cut guy. I think my girl would really like you.”“So what you are saying is you want to drop your girlfriend off at my apartment, and I fuck her, and then you are going to pick her up?”
“Yeah, that would be cool,” Jim responds.
“Give me your number, Jim. I’ll call you later. I got to go.”
I put the phone down, and I am simply bewildered. I have no recollection of this guy, even if I ever met him. I gave a brief presentation in 1998 in Chicago to a group of employees. Since then I moved to a different city, and had two job changes. Who even knew I was there that day? Is this an elaborate ruse by one of my friends. It couldn’t be. They are too lazy and they would not know about this presentation form 8 years ago.
Several days later, I decide to call Jim back. Now, obviously no one is going to believe this shit. It is just too crazy. So, I have my deviant buddy, Miller, listen on the speaker phone. I needed a witness.
“Jim? It is Rutt.”
“Hey, how are you?”
“Good, good, how about that weather?” I decided to make a bit of small talk.
“Have you thought about fucking Terrie?”
“Yeah, I am really interested, but can you send me some photos?” I wanted to end this call quickly, and see if he would send me some photos.
“No problem. So what is your favorite position?”“What?” I asked.
“You know, how are you going to want to fuck Terrie?"“Ahh, a little doggie, maybe girl on top.” I stuttered.
“She likes to take it from behind.”“Ok, well, I’ll wait for those photos then.”
“Do you like going down? Terrie loves it when you work the clit. You got to get down there and really work it.”“Yeah, that is cool.”
“Do you like to party?”“Yeah, I like boozing it up.”
“No, no, do you like to tweak?”“To be honest, I am not sure. What does tweaking mean?” I spoke as I realized I was truly out of my league.
“You know, crystal meth. It will make you fuck like a porn star. Just tell me before hand, and I’ll score some. You are really going to enjoy fucking Terrie. You don’t mind if I am there, do you?”“I am not sure about that, Jim, why don’t you send the photos and we can talk.”
I hang up the phone, tears are running down Miller’s face. I am simply bewildered, intrigued, and scared. I wait anxiously for the photos of Terrie. One week passes, than another. I never receive them, and the memories of Jim and Terrie fade to the many recesses of my mind.
Six months pass.
After, a brief 13 hours of drinking and rejections too many to count, I find myself in my condo around 2 AM. I am working my cell phone, and drunk dialing girls who find themselves unluckily in my phone book. Then my home phone rings.
Jim fucking Nav! The caller ID reads.
“Hello.” I answer.
“Hey, can I come over and give you a blow job?” Jim blurts. “I think I am all set.” It is hard to get shocked at this point. “What happened to you? I never heard back from you.”
“Terrie decided she didn’t want to do it anymore.”“That is too bad, I was looking forward to fucking her.”
“Rutt, what type of underwear do you wear?”“Boxers.”
“I like boxer briefs, you would wear them half way down your ass when you are fucking her.”
“Sounds good.”
“She trims her pussy pretty well, but she leaves it a little hairy for me.”“Have you been in some three in some ways?”
“
My buddy, Tim and I , went out with Terrie one night. And we ended up double teaming her.” “Jim, are you gay?”
“I like them about the same, guys and girls.” “Does she have any idea?”
“She might.” “Tell me more about Terrie?”
“She is 27. She was flight attendant. Sweet round ass, perky tits. She likes getting fucked sideways. She likes blonde guys. I m blond, but she wants to fuck an Italian, I told her a white lie. I said we are close friends. Good looking, clean cut, I remembered you.”“So she is going to be up for this?
“She gets crazy. She is hot and cold. I have a guys on the side, I meet them online, gay.com. It is very easy to get laid. Top or bottom, I like oral, I pitch and catch.”
“Well back to Terrie, I want to know when I can fuck her.”
“She likes to get her ass eaten out. She like to get her clit rubbed out. She likes to sit up on face. Grind her psuuy on my face a lot, get her clit worked a lot, work the clit, with the tip of tongue.”
“What about her body?”
“Tits? Perfect. Not big, not small, baby bottle nipples.”"Sounds nice."
“One of my other friends nailed her. He had a big dick. Fucked her missionary, he fucked her in the shower, then doggy style. Rutt, what are you doing? Take care of it with me on the phone. Would you like to have a guy suck your dick?”“Ahh, no thanks.”
“You have a bulge going?“No.”
“You have a boxers on? Are they pulled down? Is your dick hairy?”“Jim, Do I have to wear a rubber when I fuck her?”
“No, its cool. I know you. You don’t have to wear one.”“OK, great speaking with you. I gotta go. Call me when Terrie is ready.
Too strange….maybe to be continued……………………………………
Wingman....0 for 3, But Still Trying
Who doesn’t need a good wingman? There is a couple of guys I can count on that I work well with. It is just good chemistry. There are no egos, no one upping, no cockfighting. There is Doug, Randall, and of course Miller. They are dependable, consistent, and show no fear. All great traits to be admired.
Well, sometimes you need a different type of help, something with a twist and maybe unique. Everyone needs an edge. I have recently found it at
http://www.arrivistepress.com/arrivistewingman.html , better known as the Virtual Wingman. The only problem is I am 0 for 3. I really do not appreciate these odds. I can strike out like that on my own. Thank you very much.
The concept is quite simple, yet ingenious. You fill out a brief survey about the one you desire. You know, all the attributes, that any good stalker would have handy at his fingertips…..and then one of the crafty writers at Arriviste Press
http://www.arrivistepress.com/index.html scribes a love note to your intended via email.
I have had the opportunity to use this service three times and have met with the same results. Is it me? Or them? I’ll let you decide.
First StrikeFine, I’m a heavy drinker, I admit. I have a bit of a problem blacking out while drinking caprihanas. It was not too recently that I was at Sushi Samba, and I easily plowed through a dozen of these mind numbing concoctions. I was on fire, I was weaving from table to table, girls thought that I was charming and witty. Quite a lethal one-two. I awoke with Christina’s email the next day. She was the very cute Philippino I met on the roof deck. Boo-yah!
Hey Christina:
It was great meeting you the other night at Samba. I would love to get together with you when you are around, Rutt
A week passed, no email back. Time to turn it up a notch. I diligently filled out the form at the Virtual Wingman. Now to sit back and watch the magic unfold. I never thought getting laid was going to be this easy.
The Virtual Wingman sends off the email to Christina singing my praises….shortly after Christina emails me directly….
Hi Rutt:
I am really flattered, but I am married. Sorry.
Christina:
Oh, I might be a bit confused. Are you the Phillipino girl I met on the roof deck or the widow who was sitting next to us at dinner? I sometimes drink too much. J Rutt
Rutt:
So the plot thickens.......... Perhaps you asked the wrong girl????? Actually, I'm the server who took care of you and your friends a while ago. You owe me some pictures!!!!! Is your memory returning to you now???? I'm just giving you a hard time. Hope to see you soon!Ahh, I do remember now. The waitress was cool, she took some photos for my group and she was in some as well. I had promised to email the photos. But what happened to the emails of the two girls I met that night. Maybe I wasn’t quite as smooth as I thought.
Second StrikeI am back at Sushi Samba, with my old coworker Ron. Anthony, the host places us next to a foursome of girls.
After a few caprihanas,
http://cocktails.about.com/library/howto/htcaipirinha.html I open the conversation. Interesting, four Russian girls who are studying at U Chicago. PHDs, not bad. They are there to celebrate the engagement of one of the girls. Pretty weak bachelorette party if you ask me.
I focus on my favorite of the group, a wispy emaciated slav. I manage to isolate her from her group as she joins me solo at my table.
After 30 minutes of heartfelt conversation. She announces that she is married. Eastern Europeans tend to wear their wedding bands on their right hands.
I express my disappointment, and then she announces she is unhappily married. I now empathize with her plight. She then raises the ante one more time, and informs me that she is having an affair.
“Rutt, what do you want from me?”
“Let me be honest, if you weren’t married, I would want to spend some serious time with you,” I lied. She looked me over.
The night soon came to an end. The six of us got up to leave.
“Natalia, why don’t we get a drink across the street.”
“That sounds good, let me tell my friends.” She hustled over to her girlfriends. I should have heard the death bell toll. You know you are in trouble when they say, let me tell my friends.
“I’m so sorry, my friends won’t let me go, here is my email.” She smushed a piece of paper into my hand.
Dear Natalia:
I know a few things for sure about you sexy women from Russia (do we still call it Russia? Soviet Union? I'm a not terribly PC--embarrassing, I realize). First, you have great accents; second, you generally don’t take much crap from anyone; and third, you know a good man when you find one (or when the Arriviste Wingman is telling you that he’s a good man and that you should date him). And this, dear woman, is the Wingman telling you to pay some mind to the handsome Rutt and being a smart woman, I just KNOW you’ll listen to me.
Rutt is a good guy—and I know this for a fact. And, you have to give him an A for effort for swallowing his pride and trying out his Russian language skills—sounds like it was a cross between cute and sad. I think you'll agree that when it comes to love, men often have no shame (Rutt digs you ergo he has no shame). Also, Rutt is a pretty hip guy and culturally aware too (I'd be hard pressed to find anyone who knew anything about Russian literature or could say anything beyond, "Nastrovia!") but Rutt's down with it! Quiz him on Nicholas & Alexandria--he'll pass or ask him about Peter the Great--he's got that too. Where are you going to meet a man with depth, looks and intellect that are as romantic and sweet as Rutt? The answer is that you're not. Snap him up, Natalia--like he's the last roll of toilet paper after waiting for 7 hours online.
Also, may I suggest that you and Rutt enjoy the last few specks of winter and snuggle up in front of the fireplace with a little chilled vodka and you can whisper filthy Russian in his ear. Maybe it'll improve his language skills.
Good Luck!
The Arriviste WingmanI never heard back. 0 for 2. Gee, thanks wingman.
Strike 3
I travel quite a bit, for work and fun. I was flying to Chicago from a weekend of banging a stripper in Houston. (see my story, Stripper Beautiful). I was squeezed into my seat on the United Regional Jet, and was pleasantly surprised. A very slim, compact dark skinned girl was sitting next to me. I quickly envisioned the positions I wanted to nail her in.
We conversed, exchanged some pleasantries. She was an Indian girl, and she lived in Chicago. Surprise, surprise, she worked in IT. I don’t do this to often, well, maybe never, but I asked this girl out sober as we were deplaning. She smiled and handed her card to me.
Several days later, I called. It went poorly. She was in a car on a biz trip with coworkers. It was an awkward, stilted conversation. I should have ended the conversation, yet I pushed on. I tried to set up a date, she ended the conversation saying she would call me back. Ouch. A week passed, no call back…..
Here comes the Wingman.
Dear Nina:
I’m not going to waste any time and be a little cagey (I think a wingman is supposed to be a little understated), instead here is it: date Rutt Simpson. And don’t do it because I’m telling you to or because if you were my sister, I’d encourage you to—instead you should date Rutt because he’s an awesome guy.
Nina, you have to trust me that you’ll meet few guys like Rutt—and he’s a good one and I know this for a fact. As you likely heard during your little in-flight chit-chat, he lives in Chicago, but his heart is with the New England Patriots. He’s pretty farging smart (Boston College doesn’t just let anyone graduate from there, you know?) and he makes good coin. (Say it with me, cha-ching!). Sure, he has a little of that ‘fraternity boy’ in him, but who cares if he naps at work and drinks too much, and watches TIVO like a 9-year old whose mother left him alone in the house for a few hours--he makes good coin (again…cha-ching!). Think of it—all that AND he likes your smile.
Do yourself a favor, girl, email Rutt and let him take you out for a nice romantic dinner and get it going ON.
Good Luck!
The Virtual Wingman
Enough said. 0 for 3.
Vanpire
This if for every egg-headed, academic Sinologist, who doesn't have time to scratch their ass since they are too busy waning about the emergance of the new superpower of the 21st century: China. Relax, America is going now where. Yes, we are pretty fucking comfortable sitting on top of the global heap. Read the below, and you won't be too worried about the world pecking order. This shit is just too funny to make up. I really wish I was this creative.
Sunday night saw me at the old stand by. Café Iberico, fun, casual, and cheap Tapas restaurant in Chicago. And the booze, the Sangria hits hard, before the girls even know what happened.
So, Betty contacted me on Yahoo’s personals. I like proactive. Betty is from China, and emails me a photo. She has only been in the states for less than a year. Definitely cute enough, but I didn’t get a hard on when I saw the photos. She was a gymnast and a on-air personality in Beijing. It seemed life a safe bet.
We met at Iberico and I was definitely disappointed. She wasn’t awful, just someone I wouldn’t be excited to sleep with. What definitely closed the door was she informed me that she didn’t drink. Of course, that did not stop me from swilling down a pitcher of Sangria solo.
I was making the best of the evening, but then I was a bit bored, and I let slip out that I was a vampire. Yes, a vampire. You know the type, sucking blood etc.
Poor Betty, physically recoiled and shrunk before my eyes when I came out with my revelation.
“Please don’t bit me. Do not hurt me,” she gasped in her Chinese accent.
“Don’t worry, I smiled. I only bite people who want to get bit,” as I moved closer to her neck.
She jumped back. “Please don’t bit me!” I smiled again.
I then explained to her I only bit young women, who were willing participants. If I couldn’t find someone to bite, I would go to my farm house and bite cows. I needed fresh blood once a week for nutrition.
She hesitated, her hand extended. “Are you real person?” Her hand darted out and touched my arm. I smiled, and assured her I was.
We left the restaurant shortly, but then she insisted we walk down streets to search out a bird our mouse. She wanted me to demonstrate my blood sucking capabilities. I played the game for a bit.
I offered to drive her back, and moved in close to her body. She shuddered, and hopped into a cab, declining my offer.
The nest day, I opened my email box.
hi Rutt,
thx for the nice dinner. I just curious how did you become a vanpire that really scared me today. It is 3am right now, but I can't go to sleep.
You are a nice, educated and smart guy. Hope you will stop drinking blood and try to use another way to supply your nutrition.
I really want to be nice for you and hope to be your firend, so if you need any my help, please let me know, but please don't drink my blood.
Life is short and the world is beautiful. Hope you will go back to be a real human being to live in the world, not to be a vanpire any more.
You might have read lots of books or seen many movies about vanpires, but I think your heart must be very lonely sometimes.
As a human being is wonderful. I can't tell how great I feel as a human being because you can have normal friends, family members and your human being children, too.
It is just my suggestion for you and hope you will consider about it. If you really don't want to become a human being, just hope you can balance your life and enjoy it.
I wish my best for you and hope you have good luck.
Best
Betty
Stripper Beautiful
"Supermodels are beautiful girls, Will. A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you've been drinking Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high with the single greatest commodity known to man--promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gaze of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, how she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it's going to be okay. The supermodels are bottled promise. A beautiful girl is all powerful, and that's as good as love."
Paul Kirkwood, played by Michael Rapaport in the movie “Beautiful Girls”
I am all for supermodels, but let’s be honest, I typically do not see them on the subway. When is the last time you saddled up on a bar stool next to a Cindy Crawford, Gisele, or Kate Moss. I am guessing not too recently.
For the cold, huddled masses, I think it is more appropriate to replace the word “supermodel” with “stripper”. Strippers are hot, smell good, have big boobs, and love rubbing their lithe bodies over your crotch and are available throughout the country and typically even on an international basis. Fine, I realize you have to typically drape their bodies with Andrew Jacksons, but these girls hold the promise of a new tomorrow as Paul said above. They make you forget about your problems, and your work seems like a distant mirage. How often do you get to stroll into an establishment and reject girls by the baker’s dozen, that you typically fantasize about keeping bottled up in your basement.
I would like to share with you my 15-year stripper odyssey and my apparently Sisyphean quest to nail one. These girls are there to make you feel special, and every time I walk into a strip bar whether it is in East St. Louis or Rt. 1 in Saugus, MA, I imagine that tonight is my night. Will I pull the stripper out? And I am not talking about handing her 5 C notes. Anyone can call up a prostitute. Where is the effort in that? (My friends tell me www.eros.com is a good place to start.) I am looking for the stripper to come back with me wantingly and willingly. Is that too much too ask? Well, 15 years says so, but I am not quitting yet.
Orlando
Maybe I am a slow starter. The first time I broke my “strip bar” cherry was 1990. My college roommate and I jetted down to Disney for Easter my junior year. We went out drinking at Pleasure Island and then shortly after found ourselves at Baby Dolls. It seems like just yesterday, as I entered the sleazy tit joint. A young girl undulated in front of us with her skinny body. Our backs rested against the wall is she went though our limited funds. I left Baby Dolls with a giant smile and a 50% cotton Baby Dolls T-shirt that was already to small before I even washed it. That night visions of strippers danced in my head, and I imagined the possibility of bedding one of these wonderful creatures.
Lesson learned: Do not fall for free T-shirt with the purchase of 3 lap dances ruse.
Las Vegas
Several plus years after college graduation found me with a 10 person crew for a Vegas bachelor party. A lazy Saturday afternoon found us in a somewhat deserted Olympic Garden. Come on, you know the one, right next to the Stratosphere. It was dollar Miller Lite bottle day. I was already happy. I sat in the back, keeping a low profile. My buddy, Chris rushed over to me.
“You need to get a lap dance from the girl,” he panted.
“Naw, I’m all set. Taking it easy today,” I responded.
“I am telling you. You got to do it.”
I walked over to the girl he referred to. Teddie (well, maybe it was Teddy, I didn’t ask) was hot, stripper hot. She was wearing a skimpy negligee with long dark hair. Teddie placed me in the chair, and spread my legs. Damn, she smelled good. She started doing all the traditional stripper moves, but then I was about to learn a couple of new tricks. Teddie started kissing me! I don’t mean a peck on the cheek, but a full on make out. I immediately ignored the fact that she probably just made out with 5 of my friends right before me. Then I was to learn an important lesson. Teddie slipped her hand up my shorts, and started yanking my big unit. I was in love. The dance ended, she kissed my cheek, and thanked me for the dance. I quickly requested 4 more lap dances.
Lesson learned: Wear shorts or sweat pants to provide comfort and access for you and the strippers.
Las Vegas
Yeah, back again a year later on a biz trip. Somehow I managed to arrive at the Luxor a night before my coworkers. I quickly recalled my last time in Vegas at the Olympic Garden. I thought, I can go down there for an hour just to walk around, come back to the hotel and get a good night of sleep.
I arrived at the OG a little after 10:00 PM, paid my cover and received two drink coupons. I made a bee line to the bar, keeping my gaze averted from the strippers. I did not want to be tempted by these beautiful snake women. I grabbed a stool at the bar, diligently lost my $10 on video poker and drank two Miller Lites. I kept my promise and made my way to the door to head back to the hotel. Literally, 10 feet before the exit, a stripper cut me off at the pass.
“Hey, do you want a dance?” she cooed. I knew I was in trouble.
“Yes,” I responded without hesitation. By midnight, my ATM had been turned off. I somehow managed in a flurry of Jaghameister shots and lap dances to withdraw $500. The dark, long haired vixen wearing just a pair of silk panties had found her mark.
Next thing I knew, the OG was closing. I managed to last until 6 AM. I was drunk. My ATM had been shut off, again. (At midnight, the withdrawal clock had reset.) I had managed to withdraw another $500.
Now to close the deal.
“Hey, let’s go to breakfast,” I drooled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. My girlfriend is driving me home,” the stripper pointed to one of her coworkers. “Tell me where you are staying, I’ll call you later.”
“Great, we can meet for lunch,” I smiled. I gave her my last name and told her I was at the Luxor.
I left the OG, after my stripper gave me back $20 so I could get a cab back to the hotel. The sun was peeking out over the Vegas skyline. I crashed.
I woke up late in the morning, and began staring at the phone. I started to get hungry, but I didn’t want to leave the room in fear of missing her call. Hours passed, I made my way to the pool with a book. I came back at five. The red Silon light blinked on the phone. My heart sank. I checked my message.
“Hey, sorry for calling so late. I can’t make it for lunch today. But come in tonight and visit me.”
Lesson learned: Strippers like your money more than you..
East St. Louis
This Disney World for the perverted can be found right over the border from St. Louis in East St. Louis, IL. This place is both scary and sketchy. I made the drive over with my coworker. He was vouching for Miss Kitty’s. He had spent some time there solo on his last business trip.
We pulled up, and I already had second thoughts. I have seen barns with more character. This structure was built from unfinished, unpainted plywood on a dirt lot. I entered the door and was dismayed with the quality of the girls. Several thoughts went through my mind: female truck drivers. I looked at my buddy, but he nodded to me assuredly with a sly smile.
This place became a free for all. I have seen more order at rodeos and crash derbies. The booze flowed, the place got crowded, civilian girls started getting naked on stage, and strippers started going down on their coworkers! I managed to find a cutie, and strolled over to the VIP room. Let’s make it clear. The VIP room is very much a euphemism. There were plywood stalls with folding chairs. Not exactly plush surrounding, but the girls made up for it with enthusiasm.
My girl quickly worked her way down to her birthday suit. She locked her legs around my head, as I stared at her hey-nany-nany. I poked it with my fingers. She flipped around and started making out with me, while she plunged her hands down my pants.
I whispered some sweet nothings about meeting for lunch tomorrow. She took my number and promised to call. Thankfully, this time, I had a cell phone, and did not have to sit in my room all day to not receive her call.
Lesson learned: Please see lesson above.
New Orleans
OK. Who hasn’t projectile vomited before in New Orleans? Well, Sunday night, I put on quite a performance, including making out with a waitress on a balcony on Bourbon street with a tongue ring.
Monday night, I could not even stare at booze. But my coworkers, Ron, Chris, and I trolled Bourbon Street and took in the sites. Next thing I knew, we were settled in at Rick’s Cabaret.
Strippers placed themselves on the laps of my buddies. We all made small talk to pass the time. No one was spending any money. The girls left, a new one approached me. She asked me to go to the VIP room. I played hard to get, and settled on a lap dance in the corner.
She was sexy and small. She had long dark hair, one too many tattoos, and a great stripper body. She was 20 years old and wanted to be a singer. After the dance, she sold me on the VIP room. Thankfully, it was a bit more comfortable the folding chairs at Miss Kitty’s. We settled into the booth and we began to make out. This was pretty cool, I thought. It was almost like a girlfriend, but without the b.s. We laid down in the couch made out, rubbed our bodies together.
We talked, and I started to work my wrap. I fly a lot for business so I have a lot of frequent flyer miles.
“So, have you been to Chicago?” I asked. She replied no. I sold her on the Mag Mile, the great restaurants, and summer in the city of big shoulders. She seemed interested and took my email. “I’ll send you a ticket and you can visit me in Chicago.”
She promised to keep in touch.
Lesson learned: See the lesson above.
New Orleans
No this is not a misprint, I am back again. This time for Jazz Fest. To be honest, I never made it to Jazz Fest, but I got pretty loaded all weekend.
Thursday night found me at Razoos on Bourbon. Make sure you take advantage of 3 for 1 night. It is a great way to get buzzed. After drinking hour after hour, I strolled back to my hotel, the Royal Sonensta. Guess where? Right across the street from Ricks.
I roll in to Rick’s at 4 AM. What? It is closed. This is New Orleans. Back up plan is Temptations next store. The dregs of humanity have surround the female whirling dervishes. I sway by myself at the bar. A girl approaches me, stripper beautiful. Tall, young and beautiful. I try and play hard to get.
“Do you want to go to the VIP room?” she drawls. I don’t even blink. She leads me to the cash register. I plunk down my plastic and $200 later she leads me upstairs.
Now this is a VIP room! It is literally a room with a door, and even a divan. We fall into the couch and we begin to make out. She is a 20 year old throng clad Mississippian who make the commute from up north to make the big money.
“Do you want a blow job?
“What,” I eye her. Is this a trick I thought. “Sure.” She unzips my pants, inspects my cock with a keen eye.
“$50.” She states as she consumes my member. Seems pretty reasonable I thought in my drunken state. Forty-five minutes, I am on my way, stumbling to my hotel across the street.
Lesson learned: Location, location, location.
Houston
There are some strip bars that are just plain famous. Mons Venus in Tampa, Olympic Garden in Vegas, and Treasures in Houston. Their names evoke images of loose girls, unrepentant desires, and hand jobs in the dark recesses of these labyrinths.
Work brought me to Houston. After a quick dinner on a Wednesday, a local friend of mine suggested we head over to Treasures. I declined, and he suggested I rethink my answer. After a quick driving tour of Houston, we landed in the Galleria section of Houston.
Treasures at 9:30 PM on a Wednesday is a pretty good idea. We weaved our way to the bar, and were outnumbered by a 3-1 ratio. The 3 is the girls! We slurped down a couple of drink and watched the strippers file by. I was getting pretty excited.
My friend suggested we grab some seat before it got crowded. We head to the back room. Nice and sketchy. Every row of chairs we passed the bar got darker. We plopped down in some seats and was immediately joined by Denise. Dreams do come true. Small and slim, D cups, long dark hair, half Spanish-half Mexican. I love those half breeds! She made small talk with us for a half an hour.
She looked at me. “Do you want a dance?”
“Sounds good.”
She grabbed my hand , and we went a row further back. Even better, it was a couch. She then slid some high backed chairs in front of the couch to even further block the view. It was like she made a fort for us. Well, a perverted sex fort. She pushed me into the couch, and before my butt hit, we were making out. I was liking this girl. On the third song, she stood on the couch, her legs outside of mine. She slid her thong over, exposing her snatch, grabbed my head and placed my face in her pussy.
“I want to see what you got if I am going to hang out with you tonight,” she stated. I hesitated for a moment, as I imagined where her pussy had been, I quickly put those thoughts aside, and for a minute pleasured her. She slid down, smiled, and then slid down a bit more. She now was on her knees, my legs spread. She unzipped my pants, slid them down with my underwear, and firmly ensconced my cock between her giant watermelons. She looked at me, and started sucking. This was all before I had given her one dollar.
This went on for hours, I was in love with this girl and Treasures.
Time to close the deal. “Claudia (I knew her real name by this time) why don’t you come over tonight and we can hang out…” I suggested.
“Ok, give me your info and I probably can come over…” she stated. Not the answer I was looking for. I tried repositioning, but I could not get her to commit.
She walked me to the door, scribbled her email and phone number on a napkin and made out with me.
The next morning, I woke up in the hotel, head propped on three pillows, TV on, lights on, and no Claudia.
Lesson learned: Strippers lie.
Houston (again)
Two months finds me back in Houston. I am excited! I sprint into Treasures. My head is on a swivel. Where is Claudia? After an hour, I realize she is not there. I brush away a tear or two. It is time to move on.
My eyes catch my new desire. Skin like mocha frapachino, tatas till Tuesday, long dark hair, I am won over and have already forgotten Claudia. I make my way over, she locks eyes with me.
“Papi, do you want a dance?” she coos. “you are so handsome.” I almost believe her. She is so cute and sexy. I am lost. She leads me to the couch, we spend several hours together. Nothing illicit mind you. The occasional kiss, and gentle caress. It feels like a proper date!
She hands me her number. She wants to talk to me. This little Rican might be the one.
Irony. I have a girlfriend, who I like a lot. I don’t want to lose her. Not even for a stripper hot girl.
A month passes. Good news, well sort of. My girlfriend dumps me. After the initial shock and awe. I call Rosa, my friend from Houston.
“Papi, I miss you!”
“Rosa, I am coming to visit you this weekend!” I retort. I jump on the plane.
She smiles. I make my way to Houston for the weekend.
Mission accomplished.
Lesson learned: Desperate persistence can pay off.
Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
I’ll be honest I really liked her, even when I was sober, and not having sex. On paper, it doesn’t get much better than this, part time model, president of her college, former cheerleader, making great coin, boozehound, and really horny. It really was a great couple of months.
As we know, all good things come to an end. It was Memorial Day, and I took a 10 day trip overseas. Eleanor slept over the last night before my departure, and I told her I would call her every other day. The calls were sterile, the emails business like. I knew something was wrong.
I flew back, my lay over was in Dulles.
“Honey, I’m back!” I yelled into the receiver.“Oh, hi.”
We made small talk. We were seconds away from disconnecting.
“What is the matter?” I blurted“I don’t think it is working anymore.”
“What?” I stuttered.“Call me when you get home, we’ll talk then.”
I got back to Chicago several hours later. At 10 PM I called her.
“Are you home?” I questioned.“No, I am in a cab.”
“Ok, call me when you get home.”“No, I am coming over now.” She stated.
Ten minutes later a tipsy Eleanor saunters in. We sit on the couch facing each other. For an hour we speak. She overviews the reasons of why we are splitting up. I sit there silent and glum. We pack up her belongings she had left at my house.
“Can I hug you?” she asks.
Of course, that hug turns into sex, once twice, three times that night. We wake and continue, where we left off. She calls in sick. (It is a Tuesday.) At noon, I have a lunch appointment. She waits in my condo, while I schmooze my clients and order her lunch to go.
I come back, we go at it one more time in my bedroom. We are startled.
“Rutt? Rutt?” We hear tapping at the door.
“Ahh, one minute, Zophie,” I yell. I forgot, it is my maid. Every other Tuesday.
We finish the deed, compose ourselves. I smile at Zophie. Eleanor and I go to my second bedroom, ie, my office, to let Zophie clean my bedroom.
Eleanor is lounging in my guest bed, while I am checking my email. Fuck it. I jump on the bed, and lift up her dress.
Timing is everything.
“Rutt, we go now. You pay me?” Zophie chants through the closed door, minutes later.
“Two minutes, Zophie.” How many times I have I said that before.I open the door, a sweaty mess. Hand Zophie the money and smile.
It is now five in the afternoon, Eleanor and I go downstairs to the coffee shop. I thought to myself what a great day.
“So are we back together?” I ask.“No, no, everything is the same. We are done.” She finishes up her coffee.
All things being equal, that is way you want to break up.
Friends with Benefits
I think everyone has one of these relationships…she is kind of a friend, but she occasionally sleeps with you. You kind of try to play both sides. You don’t want to have a full time relationship with all of the commitments, and let’s face it: work. But on the other hand, the girl is cool, and she will let you bang her.
Well, I have one of those girls (or used to), her name is Rubab. That is Pakistani by the way. I met her at Pasha years ago, she was just out of college, and me, just a lecherous horny bastard. It was a Tuesday night, I was there with my work buddy. The band was blasting away, the place was packed.
I saw a really tall girl with long black hair, eyes and skin. That great exotic look. I moved in, we started dancing, and eventually making out under the influence of Petrone Tequila.
Over the next several years, we would occasionally hang out, and every so often, she would spread them. I would call her after, but she just seemed generally not interested. OK, I can live with that.
Now this past fall, we met up again. Several Sangrias at Café Iberico and maybe a shot or two might get her in the right frame of mind I pondered. We left the restaurant and made our way to my place, making out in the cab.
Now we are in front of my condo. We are making out, and I am not so subtlety rubbing my crotch up on her.
“Rubab, come up to my place. Let’s hang out,” I murmured.
“I can’t,” she babbled.
“What’s a matter?”
“I don’t know,” she stammered.
“What? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No”
“Well, what is it?” I pushed.
“You are a great guy. I love hanging out with you.”
“And…..” as I rubbed her but and boobs as my neighbors passed.
“Well, you are just awful in bed! Really bad. You have orgasms. I have none. I need you to work my clit.” She accused me.
“Rubab, give me another chance,” I begged. “Come up right now! I’ll prove to you I am better.”
“I am sorry, Rutt.” She hopped in a cab and was off.
Whoops.
Mon Dieau
“You know why the French don’t want to bomb Saddam Hussein?” asked Conan O’Brien. “Because he hates America, loves mistresses, and wears berets. He is French people.”
Mon Dieau! I hate those odious little fuckers! I know it is not quite as fashionable to hate the French as it was leading up to the most recent Gulf War, but my distaste for the French has not waned at all. Not one ounce of Grey Goose has graced my patriotic lips.
I recently had the opportunity to read Our Oldest Enemy, A History of America’s Disastrous Relationship with France by John J Miller and Mark Molesky. This book traces over 300 years of perfidy that America has been the subject of. French hostility dates back to 1704, when the French teamed up with the natives to slaughter the innocent townsfolk of Deerfield, MA. Do not be swayed the liberal beret-wearing left in the US that perpetuates the sisterly love myth between these two countries. The French have had it out for us since day one, except for a brief hiatus during the American Revolution. And even then, their efforts were halfhearted and haughty.
The French people have a twisted self view of themselves. All great empires fade over time, and France is no exception, yet the entire populace has not come to grips with reality. This is a country that was a cultural Mecca and military power of Europe, but that was over 200 hundred years ago! Their two biggest military heroes are a dwarf-like megalomaniac who wasn’t even French, Napoleon, and a teenage broad, Joan of Arc. Despite these facts, the French still believe they are the voice of the world.
Chirac and the French had the great opportunity to stand shoulder to shoulder with all western powers to stare down Saddam and his despotic regime. But no, Chirac decided to rally old Europe and create a new axis that Saddam could influence for his own ends. As former French president, Francois Mitterrand, in 1996 stated, “We are at war with America.” This is our ally? God help us.
France has historically and consistently undermined America. In fact, France was the first county to exchange fire with the nascent country in the Quasi-War of 1798-1800. In the late 1700s, French diplomat Genet was sent to America to draw the U.S. into war with Great Britain. During he civil war, the French attempted to split the country in two, and destabilize our neighbor Mexico by overthrowing the government by sending in the French army. And we all know that we saved their asses twice in WWI and WWII. But did you know, the first enemy to fire on our GIs as they stormed the beaches of north Africa were the French? It is true, before we could kill the Nazis we had to go through these spinless French puppets. Now, that boils my blood. I can go on and on how they fucked up Vietnam, wouldn’t let us fly our planes over France to attack Libya, or how they raise McDonalds in Paris and then celebrate, but I think we all get the idea.
These smelly, cowardly, pate eating, “ou est la bibliotec” speakers are not our friends, but are oldest enemy. So as an American, I ask you to do your part…..don’t wear berets, eat Danon yogurt, drink French wine, and please do not visit their country.
